


The Entrails Of The Animals

by ShinySurfinRaichu



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Slow Burn, lgbtq character(s), uuuh if anything else needs to be tagged lmk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinySurfinRaichu/pseuds/ShinySurfinRaichu
Summary: Kirsen Pinelock was raised in a Silver Hand camp, until the fateful day when she contracted lycanthropy. Several years later, she finds herself restless without a purpose. Upon hearing the Dawnguard is being reformed, it seems like just the type of job the Were-Sabrecat needs.But life in Skyrim is rarely so simple, as the Bosmer will soon find out. There's something much larger surrounding Dimhollow Crypt and the recent surge of Vampire attacks; and Kirsen meets a woman who drags her into the drama whether she wants it or not.





	1. Before the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue is taken straight from the game, while other bits are elaborated on and I don't own anything except the concept of Kirsen c': 
> 
> Timelines might be a bit skewed as well, but I will try to stay as close as I can. The title is a reference to "Heartlines" by Florence + The Machine.

The first change is disastrous.

The pain in her shoulder is too much to bare, slumped on the ground with vision blurring. She thinks if she can just make it a little further, there might be something, anything, that could help. By now she has collapsed, face first, onto the ground. One arm desperately trying to drag the rest of her body forward through the snow. Her blood is on fire, and the feeling is so mind-numbing that she's convinced that she can feel every drop of it coursing through her veins. There's a dull throb building on her left side, louder and louder with every passing second.

Suddenly it's the only thing she's aware of; the pain is fading, her vision and hearing nearly gone. This new feeling has taken over and finally, mercifully, she has lost consciousness. Now there is only It. Bones cracking and elongating, skin growing rough and coarse. Soft fur replaces what was once torn armor and bloodied wounds. There are still bite wounds on its shoulder, but this is no longer Her. It's the beast, and it's furious. Where there were once nimble fingers, now lay sharpened claws far larger than any dagger. They leave grooves in the disturbed snow with every bound. Instead of a soft smile, there are massive fangs poised to shred the unsuspecting guard up the road. He turns too late at the sound of heavy pawsteps and his skull cracks as easily as an egg beneath its jaws.

The poor soul was not alone, though, and before long an alarm pierces the air around it. It startles for just a heartbeat, before rushing after the sound. The scent of warm bodies and freshly spilled blood are too much to ignore. Speckled fur stands out among the winter landscape, but there is no need for stalking prey now. Shor's Stone was not built to fend off a beast such as it, larger than any of its kind and smarter than they could ever imagine. The guards fall beneath its claws, one by one. Those who could not make it into their homes quickly enough followed. Soon it was eerily quiet within the small settlement, with every living soul barricaded within heavy walls. 

The beast paced the streets, bellowing out its frustrations. Bodies were devoured, keeping that burning blood kindled longer and longer. Soon there was little flesh left to consume and barely a bone left to crunch. The fire was beginning to stutter, and it knew the time had come to leave. With one final roar, everything went dark.

____

Something hard pushed into Kirsen's shoulder, pulling her from an unpleasant dream. She blinked groggily, trying to remember where she was. Sleep did not always come easy for the Bosmer woman and it certainly didn't leave easily either. Before she could roll over to see what had woken her, it happened again. Only this time it wasn't so kind. Kirsen found herself unceremoniously shoved off the bed. Her face smacked into the ground, jolting the wood elf into wakefulness.

"Wake up, you lazy rug." 

Kirsen groaned unhappily, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Her head was throbbing, but whether that was from falling out of bed or the drinking last night, she was unsure. The source of the voice, Baral the tavern owner, was already busy trying to tidy up the spare room. 

"I thought we agreed that if I passed out here, you weren't supposed to wake me before noon." She muttered, cradling her head.

"I was told to get you out of here at sun up, your words not mine." He said, raising his hands defensively.

"That doesn't seem like something I'd say." Kirsen pointed out, "You're lucky we're friends, or I would have eaten your knees for breakfast after that stunt."

"Yeah, yeah, you're terrifying and everybody knows it. Now get going."

Despite her best efforts at remembering, Kirsen couldn't quite put a finger on what Baral was talking about. The events of the previous day clicked back into place slowly. She remembered finding a man ambushed by a vampire, and the taste of unnaturally cold blood. In turn, he had saved her from the thralls Kirsen hadn't noticed. Obviously she had limped back to the Stumbling Sabrecat at some point that evening.

"What was I supposed to be doing?" Kirsen asked finally.

Baral shrugged, "Something about going to an old fort in the Rift. Dawnguard, I think it was? You said some Orc insisted you go, after you saved him from a vampire ambush."

That sounded more familiar, she decided with a serious nod. Vampires had become quite the scare lately, although the Bosmer had figured it was just the newest thing for people to worry about. After yesterday she was more inclined to believe the rumors. Kirsen waved Baral out of the room, and gave a long stretch. It didn't take long to strap the leather armor on and slip into ragged boots. Gathering together the last of her gear, the wood elf padded down the stairs, bidding her friend a hasty farewell.

The Stumbling Sabrecat tavern was her latest haunt, after the first time she had crashed in nearly seven months earlier. Baral had been kind enough to keep her from bleeding out that day. In exchange, Kirsen had provided protection for the Redguard with the ever-changing owners of the fort his tavern resided in. The ruffians who ruled it now were fine enough with leaving Baral alone, happy to drink themselves to delirium whenever they weren't smuggling goods or hassling travelers. Plus, she liked the name. The wood elf thought it was ironic, given how she had found the place.

Kirsen herself was something of a mercenary. Being raised in a Silver Hand camp instilled a hunter's discipline in her; if she didn't have a job, something to hunt, she was too restless to focus. 

That Orc she met yesterday gave her a proposition, to join the Dawnguard and have a purpose again. To have a prey to hunt down, one that desperately needed to be culled. Kirsen decided it was worth a visit at the very least, even if the vampiric threat wasn't as bad as they let on. It would be a long trip down to the Rift, but that wasn't a problem for her. As soon as Fort Dunstad disappeared from sight, Kirsen broke into a run. There were several hours before she could shift, even though that restless energy was already beginning to coil within her again. She was happy to run off the tension.

____

It was nightfall by the time she passed Broken Helm Hollow. Nearly a week had passed, most of which Kirsen had spent loping through the wilds in feral form. She couldn't always focus on objectives well like that, there was so much around her flooding her senses, but somehow she had managed. 

Kirsen paused, eyes trained on the darkening sky. She was shifted now and, thanks to the skooma dealer who tried accosting her on the road earlier, she would be for a while. A bug buzzed around her ear, she reached a paw up to bat it away with a huff of annoyance. She would have to make a camp for the night. After all, waltzing up to the fort in the form of a massive, fanged cat was probably a bad idea. There wasn't any harm in finding the entrance of the canyon tonight, though.

The air was still, carrying little scent to her nose if it wasn't nearby. She looked around as she moved along, eyes scanning the mountainside for any hint of what she was looking for. A skeever hissed as Kirsen walked by. A returning growl sent it scampering off quickly. With the stink of the pesky creature overwhelming her senses for awhile, it took Kirsen another hour to find another clue to where she was supposed to be heading. A sudden, cool sensation rustled her tawny fur; a breeze. It carried the musty scent of sheltered stone and the sabrecat prowled after it. 

The cat eyes lended her easy sight in the dark, so it wasn't difficult to find the large opening in the rocks once she knew where to look. The air coming from the canyon was fresh, filled with a variety of scents that would take all night for her to distinguish them individually.

Now that she had found what she was looking for, Kirsen could focus on finding somewhere to spend the rest of the night. She padded off to the south and it didn't take long to find another sheltered crevice in the side of the mountain. This one didn't seem to lead to anything, more of an overhang than a true cave. It would make a fine place to camp. Kirsen curled up within it, not even bothering to change back before laying her head on her paws.

Sleep wouldn't come easily, it never would for a lycanthrope like her. Her mind flickered back to the nightmare from days earlier. They weren't always of that terrible, first shift, but it was a frequent one. For her own sake, Kirsen hoped she wouldn't have that one again. The Bosmer had a big day ahead of her, and that wasn't how she wanted it to start.

____

Even though it was bright out, the warmth wasn't what startled Kirsen awake. It was quite chilly in the cave she had passed out in, sheltered from the weather outside. Fighting off a shiver, she stretched languidly and yawned. It had been a squeeze to get through the entrance as a sabrecat, but this morning Kirsen only had to duck to reach the outside world once more. She brushed clinging dirt, dust and cobwebs from her armor. Then the Bosmer gave on last heavy shake, ruffling her short hair with a hand. It was time to go.

Finding Dayspring Canyon in the daylight wasn't a simple task, given how easy it was for the mountainside to blend into one solid mass. Eventually she did find it, however, and Kirsen wasn't the only one who had. There was a fresh set of footprints overlaying her pawsteps from the night before. She followed them into the crevice. Before long it opened back up, light peeking through the stone until it peeled back to reveal the sky once more. The sight was quite breathtaking. 

This sheltered canyon felt like it's own private world, where the air tasted new and the sights fresh. Tall, browning trees littered the landscape and when Kirsen looked closer she could see all sorts of wildflowers too. Further ahead Kirsen could a waterfall, and what looked like a small fishing camp near the base of it. There was a man just ahead of her, but the wood elf didn't recognize him. Before she could decide on whether she should approach, or just continue on the path to her destination, he turned around and spotted her. His face was nervous, but lit up when he saw her. 

"Hey! You going to join the Dawnguard too?" The nord called out.

Kirsen paused a few feet away, "Uh, yeah, I guess." 

He didn't seem bothered by Kirsen's hesitation, quickly moving on to introduce himself as Agmaer and to ask if they could approach the fort together. She shrugged and moved off to inspect the fisherman's camp before they carried on. Agmaer, ever the oblivious, just kept talking.

"If I'm honest, I'm a little nervous." He admitted sheepishly, "I've never done anything like this before."

"It's not that tough." Kirsen responded, nudging some gear with the toe of her boot.

"Should you be messing with that?" Agmaer broke off anxiously.

She shrugged and nabbed a freshly cut piece of salmon off a wooden plate nearby. The nord looked appalled as Kirsen popped it in her mouth without a second thought.

"Eh, they won't mind. We'll be one of them if we join the Dawnguard, right?" Kirsen insisted, "So we'll be sharing their food anyway."

Agmaer didn't seem completely convinced, but he didn't push it any further. He really was on the skittish side. Just the sight of her eating a raw piece of fish had caused the Nord to pale considerably. Kirsen forced down her amusement. It wouldn't help at all to dash the little confidence he did have. He got over it quickly, though, and Kirsen was happy to let him take over the conversation as they continued down the path. 

"Hey, don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself." Agmaer implored.

"Cross my heart." Kirsen motioned seriously. 

"Not the best first impression for a vampire hunter," He continued, "You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh?"

She shrugged, "A couple."

"That's still more than I have! I bet Isran will sign you right up. Not sure he'll take me." The nord's voice trailed off.

"You'll do fine, I'm sure they accept newbies all the time. People aren't born with the skills to hunt vampires, anyway." Kirsen pointed out.

"I hope so, oh. That must be it."

They both paused, taking in the view before them. Fort Dawnguard towered over the rest of the landscape impressively. Kirsen recognized the Orc in a clearing before the entrance. Durak, the name came to her suddenly, was practicing with what she assumed was a crossbow. The weapon looked powerful. He nodded to Kirsen and Agmaer as they passed, and she almost thought he looked impressed that they had come to join the Dawnguard after all. The doors of the fort were large and quite heavy.

Once inside, the two of them paused just before entering the large, circular Main Hall. There were two people arguing in the middle of it, one in Vigilants robes and another that Kirsen assumed was Isran. They waited patiently, trying not to look too interested in the conversation. Or at least, Kirsen tried to. Agmaer didn't seem to be listening, looking around with wide, awestruck eyes. 

He leaned over and whispered, "This place is bigger than I expected. Where is everybody?" 

Kirsen grunted half-heartedly in response. She was much more interested in what Isran and the Vigilant of Stendarr were so heated over. It sounded like something serious had happened to the Hall of Vigilants, and that the two of them had a history. The Bosmer made a mental note to ask more about the hall when she had a chance to.

Finally Isran turned to them, "So, who are you? What do you want?"

Agmaer balked at the words, taking a step back. It was obvious he needed a moment to work up his nerve again, so Kirsen cleared her throat. She'd bail him out, and take the lead.

"I heard you were looking for vampire hunters." She answered honestly.

"You heard right. I'm glad word's getting around, but that means it won't be long before the vampire's take notice as well." Isran grunted.

Somewhere along the walk up to Fort Dawnguard the wood elf had made up her mind. It wasn't a matter of "if" she was going to join the Dawnguard. Maybe it was Agmaer's spirit, or maybe the fact that the faction was in dire need of members, but Kirsen knew this was something she needed to do. She was a hunter without a job, without prey to stalk or a purpose. Kirsen was a predator and she needed the thrill of the chase. 

"What do you need me to do?" She asked, seriousness glinting her dark eyes.


	2. Echoes of a City

Snow fell heavily all around her, thick blankets that muffled everything in sight. It sprinkled her pelt and Kirsen shook it off with a huff. Thick fur took the edge off of the freezing weather, but it didn't help when the powdery flakes piled on her back.

Even the wind out here was icy, cutting through her bones like arrows every time it kicked up. She was no stranger to cold weather, but this was pushing it. Kirsen preferred skirting the edge of the territories that remained snow-ridden most of the year. Rarely did she venture further north than Morthal.

Her destination was nestled on a snowy peak just west of Dawnstar, however, so here she was, crouched on the freezing ground. Hours had gone by without the slightest stir in the environment, despite Kirsen's hope to scope out the cave beforehand.

With a name like Dimhollow Crypt, she wasn't surprised that it held something of interest to vampires. When Isran first gave her the job the Bosmer almost worried it was a setup. Something to get her out of the way. The conversation before it had gone something like this;  
___

"So, which of you two is ready to go out in the field?" Isran had asked moments after welcoming them into the Dawnguard.

Of course, Agmaer stumbled over his words and looked like he had just been punched in the gut. He would need some training before he was ready to investigate anything. That left her.

Kirsen stepped forward, "I'm more suited for field work."

"What makes you think that?" He grunted.

She doubted it was in disbelief, but closer to amusement this time. Isran thought this was bravado, that Kirsen was boasting of skill beyond her level. Maybe it was a bit tactless, but the wood elf felt a sudden urge to throw him off his guard.

"One of the biggest threats when hunting vampires is catching their illness, right?" She asked.

"One of them, yes." Isran motioned for her to get on with it.

"Well, I won't have to worry about that. I'm a lycanthrope."

There was dead silence for what felt like a solid minute. She didn't take her eyes away from the Dawnguard leader, who had tensed immediately. Beside her, Agmaer had gasped and she was sure he was as white as a snow hare. 

Isran stared her down without speaking, almost like he expected her to lunge out at any second. Kirsen took a step back, suddenly regretting being so forward. It was rare for her to admit that at all, so she had little practice in doing so carefully.

"I know the Vigilants of Stendarr hunt down all manner of...uh, monsters, but the Dawnguard has a more linear purpose right?" Kirsen stammered, "I'm not some wild beast who cannot control her hunger. My condition means I can hunt vampires with one less fear than you all."

"Your "condition"" Isran scoffed, but he seemed to lose some of the tension.

"I promise you, my only wish is to hunt this menace down alongside you." She said.

It took another few minutes for him to sigh and ask, "How can I trust you not to turn on us in the thick of battle?"

"Like I said, I am not a beast. I-I wouldn't eat someone unless they're as scummy as these vampires. Bandits, smugglers, men like that. I can control myself."

She decided to conveniently leave out the skooma dealer from earlier that day. Somehow, Kirsen thought the possibility of ingesting tainted meat and feeling the effects herself wouldn't help the situation at hand. They didn't need to know the details.

"Fine." Isran's easy acceptance took her by surprise, "Tolan, tell her about Dimhollow."  
___

So, there was still a part of Kirsen that wondered if Isran had sent her off to a death trap to get rid of her and take out some vampires at the same time. Two birds, one stone.

She would have to trust them, though, just as she hoped they were trusting her with this mission. There was nothing to suggest that Dimhollow Crypt was anything more then another vampire den. No one had come or gone in hours, and there weren't any suspicious scents around. Just the musty cave and boot-tracks.

The bloodlust of her shift was beginning to fade, Kirsen would have to move soon and hope for a Vampire's Thrall to sate her hunger. Snow crunched beneath her paws as the sabrecat rose and began padding to the crypt's entrance. The sound was lost in the wind, thankfully, so even if she had missed something it would not be alerted to her presence.

Inside Dimhollow, the air was heavy and dank. It wasn't always pleasant to travel underground with a nose like hers; the scent of decay and mildew could swamp others easily. At least here Kirsen would be sheltered from the cold, drafty breeze and her thick fur would warm up quickly.

She hurried along the path, trying to balance stealth with her need to ward off the shift back to mer. A tiny voice in the back of her head worried for Tolan, should there be no living beings for her to eat. Normally Kirsen was well-versed in staving off her more unsavory instincts, but the hungrier the beast was, the harder it became to see reason.

It wasn't like she had lied to Isran though, most of the time she really could control herself. Before that skooma dealer, it had been over a year since Kirsen had slipped up and attacked someone who wasn't specifically a target. And even then, the man had accosted her on the side of the road, so the Bosmer wasn't sure if that really counted as slipping up anyway.

If Kirsen happened to eat someone who didn't already have a bounty on their head, it was because they were generally aggressive. She was confident that there would be no accidents within the Dawnguard's walls. The beast had never killed a friend before.

Suddenly, the sound of voices drifted from further ahead. Kirsen froze, dropping into a crouch and swiveling her ears forward. She slowly dragged herself closer, pastel by pawstep. Whoever they were, they were speaking irritatingly low and it was difficult to make out individual words. 

She stopped upon reaching the mouth of the tunnel. Pressing herself flush with the ground, Kirsen focused on the moving shapes just a pawful of yards away. Thankfully, she was finally close enough to hear what the two figures were muttering about.

The taller of the two, undoubtedly a vampire, mentioned someone having put up quite the courageous fight. A sinking feeling weighed in Kirsen's gut, even before his companion laughingly added that the Vigilant was doomed regardless.

She could taste the scent of blood and death, but had hoped it was some other unlucky fool rather than Tolan. He had seemed like a fine man, if a little skeptical about Kirsen and her intentions. Why had he gone ahead without her? 

Before the sabrecat could eavesdrop any further, something else caught her eye. A pair of death hounds sniffing the air furiously. Damn those undead mutts, Kirsen thought crossly. She had hoped for time to put together a plan of attack, but they would find her soon. There wasn't any more time to waste.

One of the hounds broke away from the group, trotting along the edge of the cavern. Kirsen swayed on her haunches and then leapt. Her jaws closed around its face before it could send up an alarmed howl, but it would only buy her a little time.

The death hound struggled beneath her, paws kicking out wildly in an attempt to dislodge her. It was in vain, as her fangs crushed his neck and within moments the dog was dead for good. Cries of outrage sounded behind her.

Spinning around on light paws, Kirsen braced herself. The other death hound was closest and she would have to dispatch it first, but the vampires would most likely be using magic. She had to think fast, or risk them draining what little energy she had left in this form.

As the death hound leapt at her, howling like some sort of canine banshee, Kirsen sat back on her hind legs. She swung one massive forepaw around as hard as she could and smacked the hound away. The force of the blow made her falter and fall back onto all fours. It sent the death hound flying to the left, smacking into the wall of the cave with a sick thud. It didn't get back up.

Kirsen turned to glare at the approaching vampire's. From this angle, she could see the limp form of Tolan's body to the left. She made a split second decision and rushed her enemies with a bone-shaking roar. The shorter of the two, who still smelled vaguely human and was probably just a fledgling, immediately balked.

The fledgling vampire spun on her heel and scrambled to get away. Kirsen fought back a twinge of triumph, it was always gratifying to scare the breaches off of an enemy who had been charging at her just seconds earlier. In the other vampire's defense, he didn't turn tail like his friend.

Instead he froze in place, one hand still raised as if to use his vampiric magic. The sabrecat didn't stop her rushing attack, and headbutted him in the stomach. He went flying, but any cry died in his throat as the air was driven from his body.

With the vampires momentarily preoccupied, Kirsen darted over to Tolan's body. Forgive me, Kirsen thought as she dipped her head and began tearing into his flesh. She needed to sate the beast's bloodlust and the undead flesh of vampires would do nothing for her. 

Once upon a time, she might have been squeamish about consuming someone she had been on good terms with. That wasn't the case now, as Kirsen dug into her meal. She gorged on the bloody meat, swallowing everything, including scraps of cloth and bone. 

Energy flooded back into her limbs, heightening her senses once more. Footsteps and an angry voice interrupted her feasting. Kirsen looked up, blood dripping from her fangs and chin. The vampire seemed to rethink his attack again as they made eye contact. Coward.

He took a step back as he sabrecat rose and delicately stepped over Tolan's desiccated corpse. She didn't even give him a chance to run, pouncing suddenly and pinning him to the damp stones below. There was nothing the vampire could do to prevent his death, her fangs closed around his throat easily. 

The flesh of vampires was nothing like that of the living. It was cold, as was the blood running beneath it. She wouldn't describe the taste as decaying tissue, but something more like...tasteless. There was no sweet, meaty flavor that always accompanied meat. It barely even had scent most of the time.

Looking up, Kirsen tried to spot the little fledgling. If she hadn't fled the cavern entirely, then there was only one place she could see to take shelter in. Abandoning the lifeless body of her latest kill, Kirsen moved over to the old tower to the far right of the cave entrance. 

Sure enough, as Kirsen poked her head around the doorway, she spotted the woman crouched and shaking in the corner. She almost felt bad for her prey. It didn't last long however, these were enemies to her no matter how human they appeared.

Her claws scored the woman's torso with ease, and Kirsen didn't bother to watch the death throes as the fledgling vampire breathed her last. Instead she leaned upwards and placed her paws on a table with a large, rusted lever on it. Behind it was a small window, overlooking Tolan and the other vampire's bodies.

They draped the stones in front of a huge doorway. Metal bars prevented one from going any further into the cave. Kirsen nosed the lever roughly, and after a few tries it finally moved. Even without looking, she could hear the bars click into the ground.

The sabrecat exited the rundown structure and padded back over to the large doorway. She paused for just a second, to give Tolan's body a last, sorrowful blink. Then she moved on, eager to find some Thralls to sink her fangs into.

____

Travelling through the rest of the crypt went about the same way. There were some skeletons that were easily scattered with her heavy blows, death hounds to slice apart, and vampires to pounce on.

At one point, she stumbled upon a Master Vampire locked in vicious combat with what had to be the largest frostbite spider Kirsen had ever laid eyes on. She paced outside the gate as they fought, eager to sink her claws into the victor.

The frostbite spider won, and it crawled away to nurse its wounds. The sabrecat had other plans, however, struggling to pull the lever and finish off the huge arachnid. It did get a nasty bite in, unfortunately, so Kirsen had to spend several minutes wracked in agonizing pain as she waited the poison out. She hated frostbite spiders.

Once she could stand again, Kirsen realized that the only way forward was through a small door with intricate patterns. It looked...fancier then the others. Something told her that just beyond this was whatever the vampires were so desperate to find and protect.

Unfortunately, by now her strength was beginning to ebb again. There hadn't been any thralls for her to eat, only skeletons and the undead. She couldn't risk going any further in this state, Kirsen would have to make the rest of the trip in mer form. Even more unfortunately, that meant she would have to traverse back to the beginning of Dimhollow Crypt to retrieve her stashed armor and weapons.

What a hassle.

____

After the long trip to get her gear and make her way back to the Frostbite spiders body (which had only been so long because Kirsen was nothing if not an excellent scavenger, and promptly looted every body and burial urn she could along the way), Kirsen was finally at the door again.

She wasted an extra few moments debating on which weapon to carry in, her new crossbow made specifically for putting down these vampiric fiends, or her favored mace. It was enchanted with lunar steel, and Kirsen predicted that the moons were hanging high above, so it would rend flesh beautifully.

In the end, the crossbow won out. It held the advantage of being shiny and exotic, never used before and just singing to Kirsen's inner beast. That powerful first shot was not unlike the heavy blow of a sabrecat's paw. When the Bosmer inched the door open quietly, the weapon was trained on whatever may lie on the other side.

There was nothing waiting to pounce on her, though, and the woman padded carefully into the room. Another large lever sat on her left side, pressed up against a wall of metal bars. Just in front of Kirsen was an interestingly marked pedestal. She didn't trust either of them, and carefully skirted around the pedestal.

What she saw upon reaching the barred, window-like structures took her breath away. A humongous cavern, so immensely large that Kirsen wondered how it could possibly exist without collapsing in on itself. Something about it left the Bosmer feeling very small, and very unimportant. As beautiful as this cavern was, she didn't like it.

Every noise echoed off the walls, completely skewing Kirsen's senses. She could just barely make out voices speaking, but she had no idea where they originated from. They left her feeling off-balance, this situation where she could not pinpoint her enemies whereabouts.

Even her sense of smell, normally heightened thanks to her lycanthropy, was useless here. Everything of use was masked by the scent of damp rocks and decaying fungi. Kirsen would have to get closer if she wanted to get her bearings. 

Carefully stepping around broken rocks, and anything that may cause a disruption, the wood elf crept passed two large gargoyles and through the gateway they guarded. From there Kirsen peered over the stone railing and down into the cavern below.

She was struck by just how intricate the stone monoliths here were, compared to the rest of the rundown crypt. This place had obviously been built to last a long time. A very long time, by the looks of it. Suddenly, movement caught her eye and Kirsen froze.

Just across a small, stone bridge was a huge circular platform. Water surrounded it on every side, so dark that she couldn't guess how deep it ran. A lone figure strolled across and into the center of the strange platform. He was speaking to someone, Kirsen still couldn't see who.

After a moment, another vampire appeared, but she stayed on the opposite side of the bridge. Kirsen noticed a crumpled body on the stones beside her, and felt a twinge of guilt. If she had known another living person was down here, the Bosmer might not have spent so much time sifting through the crypt. 

It was too late for regrets, though, whoever they were, it was obvious they had been put out of their misery recently. There was nothing else Kirsen could do, save for avenge them. Which was exactly what she planned to do.

She crawled across the balcony silently, internally thanking the Gods for her lack of height for once. It was easy for her to stay hidden, since her head barely poked over the top of the stone railings. Kirsen made her way down what felt like a dozen flights of stairs (it was four, but damn did she hate stairways).

As she reached the bottom of the final staircase, Kirsen paused. She secured her crossbow on her back as quietly as she could manage and pulled out a thin, orcish dagger. The vampire on the platform was obviously the head of this group, and the Bosmer wanted to catch him by surprise if she could.

The other vampire, who was by no means a weak fledgling, but still not on par with her companion, seemed to realize something was amiss. Kirsen jumped from her hiding place before she could finish glancing around. One hand covered her mouth to prevent any noise escaping, and the other brought the dagger to her enemy's throat. 

In one clean motion, the dagger sliced open flesh, causing blood to come pouring out. Vampires might not be part of the living anymore, but they could bleed just the same. Kirsen lowered herself to the ground, still holding the body of the vampiress as it twitched. Her fingers were sticky with the woman's cold blood. She would never get used to how unnatural the blood of the undead felt.

If the other vampire had any clue to his companions demise, he didn't voice it. Kirsen steadied her breathing, crouched behind a pillar for cover. This had been close enough, and the wood elf doubted that she could get rid of him without taking a hit herself this time. Her luck was probably running dry. 

Slipping the dagger back into its sheath, Kirsen risked a glance around the pillar to try and catch sight of the last vampire. She couldn't see him from where she crouched. If only this damned cavern didn't muffle her senses. 

"Who's there?" A voice called out suddenly, the vampire had realized his companion was dead.

There was no fooling her enemy any longer, this was it. Kirsen grabbed her crossbow once more and leapt from her hiding place. Vampires were quick by nature, but so was she and the Bosmer had surprise on her side.

The vampire recoiled at her sudden appearance, but she could already see the ripple of magicka exuding from his hands he was prepared. Kirsen fired a bolt, natural talent mixing with years of practice to lend her deadly accuracy. 

Even as the bolt sunk into his skull with a sickening "schluck" noise, it wasn't fast enough. The vampire had already shot out a freezing icicle spike and Kirsen tried to pull away from it. She couldn't fight the momentum of her jump, though, and it sliced passed her arm.

The pain was instantaneous, almost like a paper cut, but amplified. She hissed, dropping her crossbow to cover the wound quickly. It didn't feel too deep, thankfully. Kirsen could feel blood seeping through her fingers and knew she would still have to bandage it before anything else.

Once the cut was tended to, she padded across the bridge and entered the platform cautiously. Something about the formation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There were several braziers arranged in a loose circle, one of which was alight with purple-blue flames. 

Kirsen had a feeling she would have to find a way to light all of them if she were to figure out whatever that pedestal in the middle was used for. Carefully stepping over the bones of some unfortunate soul who had failed to solve the puzzle before her, she approached the first brazier.

After circling it in careful inspection, the wood elf decided the flames were fueled by some magical force. She gave it an experimental push, and was surprised when it suddenly slid forward. Once locked in place, it too spewed the strange flames. 

The puzzle didn't take long to figure out after that, leaving Kirsen with just the pedestal in the center. It had a button in the middle of it that was rusted around the edges. She had already pressed it by the time her brain caught up and thought, wait, that's odd. Why is this, out of everything else, the only thing rusted?

A large, metal spike shot through her hand before Kirsen even had the chance to react. Her knees gave out beneath her as pain exploded through her hand and arm. The cut from earlier was nothing compared to this unexpected intrusion.

The seconds dragged by, feeling as long as years, before the spike finally retracted. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, making it hard for Kirsen to pull the top off of her potion of healing and dump it on the open wound. No amount of experience ever prepared for the increased pain of flesh and muscle knitting back together.

While she mended her bloodied hand, the pedestal had risen from the stone without her noticing. In its place was a strange monolith. Kirsen was loathe to trust it without thoroughly investigating for any other hidden traps. This crypt was out to kill her, and she refused to walk into another blatant trap.

But nothing out of the ordinary caught her eye, so the Bosmer finally gave in. There wasn't any discernible way to move the "door" of the monolith, but Kirsen tugged at it nonetheless. Surprisingly enough, it slid down without much trouble.

Inside was a dark-haired woman with her arms crossed over her chest. Her clothing wasn't from any hold that Kirsen recognized, and she dimly wondered just how long she had been imprisoned here. There wasn't much of a chance to dwell on that however, as the strange woman started to fall forward and the Bosmer darted forward to catch her. 

As the woman started to wake up, Kirsen was struck by the color of her eyes. A rich, orangey-amber color that reminded the Bosmer of the honeycomb she often gathered for potion making. She's really pretty, Kirsen thought just before something else clicked in the back of her mind. That eye color wasn't normal for a Nord, which she appeared to be.

 

The next thing she noticed was this strange woman's scent, or rather, the lack of it. The Bosmer slowly extracted herself from the situation, as the stranger managed to stand up on her own. Anxiety pricked at her senses, as instinct insisted she put as much space between them as possible. Of course, the stupid stone monolith would dump a vampire in her arms directly after stabbing her in the hand.

They regarded each other cautiously for what seemed like ages, neither willing to make any sudden movements. Finally, the vampire looked around slowly. She seemed confused and definitely disoriented by her surroundings. How long had she been imprisoned here? And more importantly, why?

"Where...who sent you here?" The woman asked at last.

Kirsen toyed with the idea of staying silent, but common courtesy won out, "A man named Isran. Who were you expecting?"

"I was expecting someone...like me, at least." She frowned at the name, obviously foreign to her.

The Bosmer glanced over her shoulder at the bodies of the two vampires she had killed earlier. There was no point in denying it, a vampire's senses were on par with her own and Kirsen wouldn't fool this woman for a moment. 

"Well, there were people like you here and, uh..." 

"I take it this man named Isran isn't fond of vampires?" The vampire said dryly. 

Kirsen fought down a smirk, at least she had a sense of humor.

"He and the Dawnguard would want me to kill you too." She admitted.

"Look, kill and and you're rid of one vampire. But if there are people looking for me then there's something bigger going on." The woman insisted.

She had to admit, while the vampire could just he lying to save her own skin, it was a compelling argument. This stranger had an elder scroll strapped to her back, had been locked inside a tomb for who knows how long, and vampires were willing to murder Vigilants of Stendarr just to get here before them. Something serious was going on here, Kirsen couldn't deny that.

"You said you could help us find out...so, I'm guessing you don't know why you're here either?" She asked thoughtfully.

"It's...complicated...and I'm not sure if I can trust you." 

"So, what do you propose we do?" Kirsen raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if you can help me get back home, then I'll have a better sense of what's going on and who to trust." The vampire offered.

"And if I do, you'll tell me everything?"

"As much as I can." She nodded, and it seemed earnest enough.

"Where's "home"?" Kirsen asked, not willing to agree just yet.

"My family lived on an island west if Solitude. I would guess that they still do."

"Okay, I can take you there. Do I get to know your name?" She asked.

"It's Serana. Nice to meet you." The vampire smiled for the first time since she'd woken up. 

"Kirsen, and you too." She returned the gesture with a toothy grin.

There was no doubt that Serana could smell that the wood elf wasn't as normal as she seemed. It was a bit like an unspoken mammoth in the room, why was a lycanthrope working with vampire hunters? But neither of them was ready to play twenty questions, so it remained a hanging tension. 

With the formalities finished, Kirsen finally took her eyes off Serana and looked around the cavern. It would be a long trek back through the crypt, but if the Bosmer's experience in traversing nordic ruins was anything to go on, there was probably a much quicker exit somewhere nearby. 

Together, they crossed the bridge on the far side of the platform and started up another flight of stairs. Serana stopped in her tracks suddenly, though. Kirsen froze too, barely daring to breath. What had she seen that the wood elf hadn't?

"Those aren't statues." She whispered, nodding to the gargoyles sitting at the top.

With a heavy sigh, Kirsen pulled out her mace. It shimmered a pale green color, eager to be christened with its first fight of the day. She was less eager, having hoped in vain that maybe they could leave without much more trouble. Maybe she could have even had time for a drink along the way, but no. Nothing in Skyrim was ever willing to just let Kirsen rest.

She advanced on the gargoyles with careful, predatory steps. The air beside her crackled with magical tension as Serana readied herself for a fight too. At least her companion was someone who was willing to pull her weight, it seemed.

Like all of the enemies that had met Kirsen before now, these ones wouldn't stand a chance. The gargoyles burst into life in a shower of stone. Their eyes took in the world around them for the first time in ages, and the last time as well, as a tiny ball of fury and steel leapt at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so the vast majority of this was written in one day and then i spent like three writing and rewriting the dialogue bc i just couldn't find a flow i liked
> 
> regardless, im starting to get a feel for kirsen now, so it's just a matter of building to it now :') as always, any and all feedback is appreciated! i write/post exclusively through my phone, so if i missed any errors please let me know so i can fix them!!!


	3. Pockets Full of Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna preface this with the fact that i edited this w/ a killer headache so if you spot any mistakes, pls let me know so i can fix em!

Gargoyles, draugr, bears, wolves, frostbite spiders, even a particularly pissed off chaurus; they had seen it all the past couple of days. From exiting that forsaken crypt and ending up on the opposite side of the mountain, to reaching the edge of the Pale. She couldn't remember the last time so much misfortune happened in succession.

The wood elf was starting to think that Serana was a beacon for bad luck. Maybe all these creatures could smell that she was from a different era (possibly more than one, given what little the two of them could piece together of when the vampire was locked away) and wanted to taste something new. By now Kirsen had run out of healing potions and the two of them were battered and bruised. 

Serana was limping, heavily favoring her left side as they trudged along. That particular wound was from the heavy warhammer blow. She fought draugr well enough, but the woman had just woken up and inevitably slipped up. The Bosmer would be surprised if that foot wasn't broken. Her companion's brave face didn't falter and on they moved. 

Kirsen, on the other hand, was sporting what she was sure would be a new set of scars. The chaurus had caught them both by surprise, and she had shifted in a moment of panic. Leaving herself vulnerable during that time, the creature lashed its jaws across her cheek. The venom had stung like a bitch, and having to finish the fight meant she couldn't tend to it quickly. 

After it was dead Serana helped fish a potion to cure the poison out of her bag and apply it. She couldn't change back right away, so she appreciated the gesture. Even with the poison out of her system, Kirsen's cheek ached all the way to the bone. The wounds ran from just under her left eye to her chin; angry and red. She was lucky it hadn't gotten her eye instead, even a little bit of the venom would have been enough to blind her permanently.

The two of them weren't exactly comfortable with each other yet, it had only been two days after all. But at the very least, Serana hadn't flinched at her beastial form and Kirsen only felt a twinge of disgust when watching the vampire feed on a stray bandit troupe they stumbled upon (oh yeah, add bandits to the list of things hellbent on killing them). They were getting somewhere.

Kirsen knew the terrain here quite well, since the eerie swampland surrounding Morthal was familiar to her. She had never been able to explain the feeling that washed over her here. It was like...coming home. Even with the creepy fog and abundance of frostbite spiders.

Just entering into the territory put a spring in her step, the wood elf could almost feel energy seeping back into her limbs. Her good mood wasn't shared however and Serana flashed her a dirty look as the Bosmer began to outpace her. Kirsen stopped to let her catch up, offering her arm out awkwardly.

"I'm fine." The vampire grunted stubbornly.

"Your foot is bleeding again." Kirsen pointed out patiently.

After a few minutes of intense glaring, Serana finally gave in. The Bosmer had a feeling she normally had much stronger willpower, but even a vampire must get tired eventually. Spending a day limping through muck and gnarled roots would exhaust even the most energetic of people. 

With Serana leaning on her, they hobbled along the wilds until they reached a dirt path. Another couple of hours and they would reach Morthal. There they could rest, stock up on supplies, and prepare for the trek up to Solitude. It sounded much simpler than it would inevitably be.

If they were lucky, there would be less dangers along the dusty road. It was well-traveled enough that the twiggy bushes and various fungi had stopped growing. They dotted the sides of it though, like spongey beacons to their destination. 

Kirsen was finding it hard not to stop and gather them, being a lover of alchemy. The giant lichens native to this marsh were hard to find anywhere else. Most merchants weren't brave enough to venture here for the ingredient themselves, and the alchemists that were kept them for their own creations. But they had places to be, so her own gathering would have to wait.

They rounded a bend in the road, slowing down as a sudden, cold breeze blew past them. Kirsen stopped completely as the hairs on the back of her neck rose suddenly. Serana shuffled until she was standing on her own again, if a little wobbly. Her head was up, though, with amber eyes glowing as she stared. 

The other side of the rocky hill revealed a gaping black abyss. It was a cave and there was something sinister about it. They glanced at each other warily. Blood patterned a couple of the rocks closest to the entrance. Thankfully, the divines must've finally been looking out for them and the stains didn't appear to be fresh.

"It's a-" Serana started to speak.

"Vampire den, I know." The Bosmer interrupted, wrinkling her nose.

"You can smell them?" She asked.

"Sort of." Kirsen elaborated, "to be specific, it's the lack of scent. Like how a mushroom tastes."

"Uh..."

"You know, sort of tasteless like water. It just...isn't there. Normally if a cave doesn't stink of bandits, then bears and wildlife move in. If you can't smell anything, it's vampires. A cave never stays empty for long."

"Interesting." Serana didn't sound interested.

There was no chance of investigating like this, the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky. Exploring, and possibly fighting, took an amount of energy neither of them had right now. It was safer to shelter in Morthal than to hope for a coven that wouldn't be hostile since Serana was one of them. It was an adventure for another day.

"I wonder if the guard know about it." Kirsen mumbled as they continued on.

"Doubtful." Her curt response betrayed just how much pain she was in.

"It's not far now, we'll be in Morthal before the sunsets."

Serana didn't bother responding, instead she returned to leaning on Kirsen with a barely audible hiss. They would have to find a caravan when they had a chance, considering how the vampire's left boot appeared to be soaked through. It left a bloody trail of smudges with every step.

Her own wounds were beginning to stiffen, her cheek was sore enough that speaking resulted in sharp pains. The cuts had most likely scabbed over, but they were fresh and painful still. Kirsen traced her tongue over her bottom lip to confirm. The coppery tang was still there, but muted. That was good, at least.

It took another twenty minutes for lantern light to break through the thick mist. Kirsen could see a large, dark mass that signaled they were nearing the local mill. All they had to do was cross a short bridge and they would be in Morthal. 

If they were especially lucky, Lami the local alchemist would still be in her shop. The wood elf could replenish her supply of potions and tend to their wounds. Even if she had already closed up, Kirsen was a frequent customer so Lami could be persuaded to help them out. It had been moons since she last stopped by the town, and if she was being truthful she had missed the people here. 

Kirsen was amiable and easy to get along with, if one could handle her occasional bouts of rambunctiousness. But maintaining friendships required one to be around often, which was a problem for the wood elf. She was always on the move or on the hunt. Aqautinces were something Kirsen had abundance of, friends were another story.

When they reached the edge of Morthal, the guards stationed on the far side of town greeted them. One of them recognized Kirsen and called out a greeting, asking if they needed anything. But the two of them had made it this far, they could make it a dozen more steps. 

Besides, it was risky to bring Serana too close to anyone, lest she be recognized for what she was. Her earlier feedings dulled her predators eyes. The once bright, orange glow had changed to a far less noticeable color. They were still tinted that unnatural shade, but as long as one didn't look close they would appear to just be a rich brown. 

Still, it was a risk Kirsen wasn't thrilled to take at the moment. Her travelling companion was already focusing hard on not collapsing, Serana couldn't afford to be super vigilant on how well her cloak obscured her face. They needed to get to the inn quickly, so she could shelter in the room in peace. 

She helped Serana up onto the wooden boardwalk once they were clear of the bridge. The Nord woman nearly tripped on the lip of it, grimacing as Kirsen bent to brace her. Behind the independent mask, the Bosmer thought she spied a glimmer of gratitude. 

The Moorside Inn was placed just off the main boardwalk, thankfully. A tall Breton brushed passed them on the stairs with a drunken mumble. Internally, Kirsen hoped that if there were many more patrons inside, that they would be similarly intoxicated. The more likely that Serana would be overlooked, the better off they were.

As soon as the door was opened, they were bombarded by warmth. Fire crackled in a long basin, easily reaching out to fill even the coldest of corners. She wasn't sure how well vampires handled the weather, but the Bosmer was definitely pleased to be out of the elements at last.

Serana used her free hand to tug at the hood sheltering her. The inn was starkly empty, with the only visible people being the innkeeper herself and an Orc holding a lute. Kirsen knew them both from her previous visits, but the bard's name escaped her. Jonna, a Redguard woman with tired eyes, looked up at them with raised eyebrows.

"Glad to see you again, kid." She greeted, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

"Glad to see a paying customer, more like." Kirsen responded with a grin.

"A bit of both. Two rooms?" Jonna asked.

Kirsen shook her head and dropped the gold on the counter, "Nah just the one."

She was so tired, that the words didn't really occur to her until she felt Serana stiffen beside her. Oh yeah, they were meant to keep up appearances. The wood elf had just figured a single room would be fine for them, after all a vampire would sleep during the day and she would sleep at night. 

Jonna didn't bat an eye, accepting the payment easily and walking off to sweep the foyer. At least they were saved from an awkward silence by the Orc bard belting out another verse. Serana carefully extracted herself from Kirsen's grasp, quick to resume her independence despite her shakiness. 

"You can go ahead and rest, the room on the left is, uh, ours. I need to go get some potions." Kirsen mumbled.

"Fine." Her answer was short, stunted.

For several seconds neither of them moved, until Kirsen could take the tension no longer. She spun on her heel and padded back out of the inn. The warmth on her cheeks was only partially due to the stinging cuts there. But the embarrassment coiling in her gut, however, was another story entirely. 

The cold breeze that greeted her was similar to someone snapping their fingers to bring her thoughts back down to earth. She had a job to do, regardless of awkward mistakes, like making the innkeeper think that you and the centuries-old-vampire you had literally just met were sleeping together. Kirsen had to physically stop and shake her hide, feeling mortified all over again.

The Thaumaturgist's Hut wasn't far from the inn, and the Bosmer was quickly distracted. She reached the door just as Lami was beginning to lock up. The Nord looked as tired as Kirsen felt when she looked up. A crooked smile appeared on her face, recognizing the wood elf easily. The dusty shop was a frequent of hers, and Kirsen had run various errands for her too.

"Ah, the marshes give you trouble?" Lami asked with a glint of humor.

"Did you know that Chaurus like to run around out there?" 

"I've heard stories of them, never seen one myself."

"Well, add another story to that batch." She continued, "is there any way I could grab a few potions before you lock up?"

"For my favorite customer? I guess I can let you in."

Once inside, the Bosmer was quick to find exactly what she needed. Several thin bottles of pale, salmon-colored liquid and some that were a fresh shade of green. Then it was over to another cupboard, where Kirsen leafed through various ingredients. Now that they were safely in town, she could afford to indulge in her hobby once more. Besides, this wasn't a wholly wasted effort since she could make her own potions with them.

She ended up grabbing two stalks of wheat, some troll fat, and a few slaughterfish scales. After passing a handful of septims to Lami, she carefully stored the purchases into her old, leather bag. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before the shop was finally closed up and Kirsen returned to the Moorside Inn.

Before she reached the building however, another person crossed her path. With her gaze on the ground the Bosmer hadn't noticed them until they were almost upon her, causing her to recoil suddenly. It was a startlingly attractive woman, who froze in her tracks as well. They locked eyes and Kirsen found herself almost lost in a vivid orange that was becoming so familiar.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice seemed to register that she was staring at another vampire, but it was dim. More overwhelming was the heat rising to her face. Kirsen felt like a dumb teenager again, feeling head over heels for a woman she barely knew. She had long since gotten ahold of her fleeting heart. A stab of fear flashed inside her. Something wasn't right here and her body refused to fight it.

The woman eyed her thoughtfully, body poised like a snake deciding whether to strike or not. Her nose was wrinkled slightly, no doubt affronted by the scent of a lycanthrope. But that alone wouldn't be enough to make the vampire's eyes narrow with territorial anger. She could tell Kirsen wasn't alone, that another of her kind was somewhere in Morthal.

Time seemed frozen to Kirsen, as she realized that her body would do nothing to fight off an attack if it came. The vampire was smart, though, and instead a flirty smile crossed her face. She took a step forward and brushed her hand along the Bosmer's arm softly. Her heart skipped several beats at the touch.

"Just passing through, right hun?" The woman purred.

The only thing Kirsen could do was nod quickly.

"Good. This town is ours." Her voice dropped to a whisper at the end, in case anyone else was in earshot.

With her message clear, the vampire winked at her and walked further into town. It felt like several minutes had passed before Kirsen had the strength to move her own legs. Her stomach was rolling over and over, torn between heat and a fierce, growing guilt. The wood elf felt like she was going to vomit. Goosebumps rose along her skin, where cold fingers had brushed before. 

When she entered the cozy building again, shoulders still hunched from warding off the cold, nighttime air, it was much quieter than before. The bard must have wandered off, or turned in for the night. Even Jonna had disappeared. Kirsen stepped along on silent feet in an attempt to keep from waking the others. At least, as silent as she could with her legs still shaky. 

The door to their room let out a thin squeak as she opened it and the wood elf winced. She glanced over to see Serana still very much awake, sitting in a wooden chair with her foot propped up on a basket. Closing the door behind her, Kirsen reached in the bag to grab out the recently acquired potions. One for healing the wound and mending bones, the other to alleviate the soreness. She spent an extra few heartbeats digging around, hoping that the color in her cheeks had returned to normal by now.

Through all of this, Serana still hadn't looked over at her. For a moment Kirsen was relieved, but that quickly changed into worry. The woman was just staring at her injured foot solemnly, where it sat freed from the mangled, cloth boot. It looked terrible, with fresh blood dripping over that which had already dried. Seeing it up close made her all the more thankful that they had actually made it to Morthal at all. The sight also made her stomach turn once more, but she had to fight down the bile. 

"Do you want me to-" Kirsen started to ask.

"Yes."

Silence stretched between them as the Bosmer crouched and uncorked the first healing potion. The scent was something akin to ash, smoky and bitter. She knew the taste would be equally unpleasant, but Serana wouldn't have to deal with that, at least. This wound was pretty intense, so much so that Kirsen figured the best course of action would be to apply the potion directly to it.

She tipped the bottle to let the pink liquid pour out slowly at first. As soon as it touched the torn flesh Serana hissed. Bits of the table splintered where the vampire's hands clenched on it. Kirsen was suddenly glad she hadn't offered her own hand up. The pain wouldn't be pleasant, but that was no surprise after all, since the bones would be knitting themselves back together now.

She waited until the potion stopped bubbling before she carefully poured a little more onto it. If Kirsen hadn't felt so queasy, it would have been a fascinating phenomenon to witness. The flesh and muscle would regrow, pulling together into a raw rendition of what had been there before. There would probably still be a scar, achingly sore from its forced mending. But the wound itself was closed and they could travel again.

Kirsen offered the rest of the potion to her companion. When Serana took it from her gratefully, their fingers brushed. The woman finally looked up at her and she could see the improvement already. Dark golden eyes had softened, but tiredness still hung like shadows in them. She began to feel slightly selfconcious as the staring continued. Part of her wondered the scent of that strange vampire was evident on her, easier to distinguish among their own kind. It still smelled closer to nothingness to her own nose.

"How's your cheek?" Serana caught her off guard.

She reached a hand up to her face, after having almost forgotten about her own injuries entirely. They had been the last thing on her mind right now. Across from her, Serana seemed to find this action amusing. Her lips quirked up into a small smile, which Kirsen returned with a crooked one. The wood elf's fingers traced over raised flesh and dried blood.

"Better then your foot was." She said.

"You should have the rest of this." Serana tried to hand the potion back.

"Nah, I'll live. You're going to need more if you want those bones to set properly."

She glared at Kirsen, "Don't pretend like you weren't poisoned. It's going to get infected if you don't do something."

"Aw, you do care about me."

"Just drink the damn potion."

"Fine, but you take a sip first."

Serana deftly lifted the potion to her lips, glaring at her the entire time. Afterwards she pushed the bottle into Kirsen's hands and stood up. She made herself busy moving the basket back to the corner of the room. The Bosmer screwed up her face as she drank it, bitterness flooding her tongue in such an unwelcome way that she was tempted to spit it out. A soft snort sounded from the other side of the room and it was Kirsen's turn to glare. 

"Don't be a baby if you can't handle the consequences." The nord said.

"I am not being a baby, the taste is nasty." She insisted.

Serana turned to her and raise one eyebrow, "And yet I didn't gag or pull a face."

"Not all of us are as dignified as you, milady." 

The mock argument dissolved into laughter at that point, Kirsen's ridiculous accent to blame. To her delight, the air between them seemed to be cleared at last. When the two of them weren't tired and cranky it was actually pretty easy to get along. She liked Serena's quick-wit and resourcefulness- traits the hunter in her could appreciate. In turn the vampire didn't seem all to bothered by keeping company with a were-sabrecat who doubled as a vampire hunter. Sort of. She hadn't done a whole lot of hunting so far.

Making her way over to the single bed, the Bosmer inspected it without many expectations. The thin mattress looked as old as those decrepit tombs and the blanket was stiff to the touch. It wouldn't be the most luxurious place Kirsen had spent the night before, but it would do. Most of the time when the wood elf visited Morthal, she spent the night running through the marshes hunting.

She sat down and spoke to Serana, "Hey, I'm sorry if I overstepped by getting us one room. I wasn't thinking straight and just figured I would sleep tonight and you would during the morning. Didn't think about our cover until it was too late."

"It's...fine." She seemed a little surprised to hear the apology.

"It's probably safer this way too." Kirsen mused.

Serana squinted in confusion, "How do you mean?"

"We can watch out for each other, in case anyone tried to follow us. Wouldn't have that luxury in seperate rooms." She said.

"You've got a point." Her companion conceded.

With the apology accepted and out of the way, Kirsen began preparing for bed. Stripping out of her light armor was a slower process than normal, as exhaustion caught up to her. The ratty, cloth under clothes smelled sweaty and the Bosmer wasn't partial to sleeping in them like that. Luckily enough, she had an extra shirt in her bag to change into. 

Serana pointedly faced the opposite wall while she did so, prompting a laugh from Kirsen. The vampire stared her down once she was dressed again. If she hadn't been so tired, the intimidation might have worked. Instead, the wood elf just stuck out her tongue like an arrogant child and laid down. She knew there wouldn't be any physical retaliation. Probably.

"Don't push your luck, Kirsen. I'm gonna be here while you're sleeping, remember."

"Come and get me." She taunted.

"You'll be lucky if I don't wake up dead tomorrow." Serana rolled her eyes.

"Oh, if only." Kirsen drawled sarcastically.

When the only response was an amused shake of Serana's head, she rolled over and closed her eyes. The sense of safety Kirsen felt with the vampire keeping watch was a welcome difference to her regular evenings. Having the blood of the beast boiling within her made the fleeting instances of rest she did get restless and unfulfilling. She didn't think that would change now, but at least there was one less problem weighing on her mind.

Her eyelids were heavy from the long, exhausting trip they'd had so far. There was a part of Kirsen, that nagging internal voice fueled by paranoia, that wondered why she had grown to trust Serana so quickly. Sure, they had saved one another several times in the last couple of days. But all that could prove definitively was that the vampire knew Kirsen was her best bet at navigating this strange, new world. Her mind was stuck on the strange vampire who had so effectively stopped her from thinking straight, and even now her tongue refused to betray her to Serana. 

If that vampire could use...whatever that power was...to stop Kirsen's own will, then was it really too far a stretch to say that Serana could do the same? She didn't get to dwell on that line of thought for very long. Sleep leaked into her consciousness, dulling her mind until it finally gave in. It was the quickest Kirsen had fallen asleep in a long, long time.


	4. Just Keep Following

___  
There was never an escape from the memory. No matter how dim it was, or how many holes laced the events. Every time her eyes closed, the Beast was there and it wanted to know the truth. 

The ground was cold and hard, too frozen to bury the inevitable bodies. Trees closed around her body, as if to shield her from the eyes of the Divines. A terrible, terrible fate was to be bestowed upon this young girl. Barely fifteen summers had passed already, and the upcoming summer would be the first without her father.

Around her the dreamscape falters, heaving with emotion even though the worst has yet to come. Her father. That was why they set out along this trail, her and seven other members of the Silver Hand. Nilenyl and three others had gone on patrol two days before. None of them had been seen again. The forest pulsed again, angry brambles coiled on the ground. Had they tripped the hunting party? 

No, the brambles retreated. It had been winter, snow blanketed the ground and bit through their heavy, furred armor. Footprints dotted the snow, leading them over gulleys and through thickets. She could remember the scent overwhelming her as they got close. A musky tang that swamped everything else. It made her sick, but there was no stopping. 

The hunting party was on a mission of vengeance. Snow clung to her boots, making every step heavy and slow. Had she the energy to keep up with the rest of them? No, the familiar shapes grew distant. She had fallen behind by the time they spotted the prey. Hunched over the crimson snow, trembling so violently that her world shook. The edges of her vision were hazy.

Had the prey been man or mer? She could not remember, wasn't close enough to tell. Just a dark body in ragged trousers, covered in blood and gore. The distance between them shrunk to mere meters, even though she had been so far away before. How close had she been when the prey shifted? A thick fog rolled into the forest, obscuring the girl's vision.

Her ears were flooded with a horrible shrieking, hands flying to cover them in vain. It didn't hinder the sound, it never did. Shadows danced all around her, one larger than the rest. It jumped from one direction to another and the fog bled viciously in its wake. Had she drawn her bow, attempted to protect her own frantic heartbeat? Or had the prey stalked over a trembling body in the snow, reeking of fear? 

She couldn't remember, the forest around her shattered like glass and stabbed into her senses. There was pain, oh so much pain, the girl could feel nothing but teeth sinking into her shoulder. A scream tore through her so violently that the sound grew hoarse. Blood poured onto the snow, her life's energy severed and leaking. Even without looking she knew that skin and muscle had been torn clean to bare ivory-colored bone. 

Suddenly her eyes flew open, the darkness cleared for one terrifying moment to reveal another pair staring into her soul. It was the deep blue of the prey- no the hazel-brown of her father, no even that wasn't right. It was the earthy color of a poor girl bleeding out into the snow, the pale yellow of a Beast devouring all else.   
_____

It was the rich amber, so familiar already that Kirsen was finally wrenched from her nightmare completely. The room felt stuffy and warm, pressing in around her uncomfortably as her head spun. Her heart was still hammering away in her chest. Serana stared down at her, one hand still resting on the wood elf's shoulder. Concern furrowed her brow and those deep eyes were shrouded by unreadable thoughts.

Kirsen realized how tense she was, muscles poised to spring and teeth bared in a silent snarl. It took several seconds of measured breathing for her to relax enough to even consider speaking. Her companion withdrew the hand, but lingered at the edge of the bed. Dimly, she wondered what time it was. There were no windows in this tiny room and her internal clock was still reeling.

"Nightmares?" Serana asked quietly, disrupting her thoughts.

Kirsen managed a stiff nod, sitting back on her right arm. Of all the people who had woken her in situations so similar to this, the vampire was the only one she felt could relate. It was an strange feeling, this looming secret that permeated her everyday life being suddenly understood. There were a previous few people who knew what Kirsen was, but none of them had lived it as Serana had. It loosened her tongue, a sliver of lonesome heart that wanted to be heard for once.

"I spent my childhood being taught to hunt people like myself." Her voice was raspy, her throat sore.

Serana hadn't moved from standing above her until now, hesitantly sitting on the foot of the bed. There was a wariness about her, most likely hoping that she wouldn't have to offer up her life's story in return for Kirsen's. She almost missed the subtle raise of eyebrows and flickering surprise across pale features. It beckoned her to continue, but only if she wanted to.

Kirsen smiled wryly as she continued, "And of everything I learned about lycanthropy, this never came up."

"The lack of sleep?" 

"Nah, the reason behind it. Every bit of text I had to read listed sleeplessness, but they never said it would be 'cause you relive the worst moment of your life every time you close your eyes." Her voiced dropped again.

The sympathy on Serana's face was so sharp that she could feel it cut into her. She couldn't maintain eye contact with that sad expression, and opted for staring at her hands instead. Fingers that could deftly maneuver even the most advanced bows lay raw and blotchy; the Bosmer must have been chewing the nails in her sleep. A difficult habit to break, when one was not conscious enough to do so.

Eventually, the vampire's curiosity got the better of her, "When you became a werewo-...uh, sabrecat?"

"Huh? No, the day that chaurus ruined my good looks- hey, ow!" Her faux-dramatic gesture was cut off by a glare and what Kirsen could only assume was a punch from Serana. Vampires hit hard.

"That's not funny." The nord woman grumbled, "I don't know why I bothered asking."

"It was hilarious, you're just a buzzkill. And I'll have you know that getting these scars was a fate worse than death, how will I make the ladies swoon now?" Kirsen still hadn't learned her lesson, even with a fresh bruise on her leg.

"You're absolutely insufferable." Serana growled, standing up to walk to the other side of the room.

"You wound me, milady, surely you jest?" Kirsen drew in a mock gasp.

"Call me "milady" one more time and you'll see just how much I can wound you" 

The glare that accompanied the threat was enough to stay Kirsen's tongue, but the amusement was still clear as day on her face. Even with all of Serana's sharp words, the wood elf had a feeling she found it at least a little amusing too. Or maybe she just hoped that to be true. The vampire had such a smoldering frown aimed at the floor that she half expected it to burst into flames. 

"Will you stop giving the floorboards the evil eye if I apologize?"

"Depends on if it's sincere or not."

"It is and I'm sorry."

The woman's face remained somewhere between cold and lukewarm, but the air between them thinned. Kirsen was unwilling to bring up their conversation from before. Things would be much simpler between them if Serana didn't talk about her past and Kirsen didn't talk about hers. Something about offering up such intimate details of her lycanthropy left her feeling hollow and vulnerable. While she had originally felt compelled to talk about them, it was such a foreign concept that Kirsen quickly thought better of it. 

It took the wood elf roughly an hour to get dressed and ready to leave the Moorside inn. Leaving Serana unguarded left a sour taste in her mouth, something that surprised her. She concluded that it was primarily due to the presence of another, far more territorial, vampire in Morthal. Their room was locked and Kirsen kept a tight hold on the key to it, but the worry persisted still. She was in charge of Serana's safety at the moment and her instincts didn't like taking chances.

But there were other matters to attend to, and she wasn't about to spend the day holed up with nothing to keep her busy. She couldn't fathom how Serana had managed it herself, but perhaps time moved quicker for vampires. When you were immortal, nights could pass by like minutes. Or so Kirsen figured, anyways. It was better then pondering whether her companion had just stared at her creepily all night long or not.

By this time of day anywhere else in Skyrim, the sun would have burned off the morning's heavy mist. In the Pale, however, it hung in the air like an ominous blanket. The lack of tourists was no surprise, given the gloomy atmosphere that clung to the town year-round. That and the dangerous swampland it was located in. Guards and locals were the only ones who moved back and forth within the fog. They moved with a confidence that comes with living in the weather for many years.

Nobody questioned Kirsen as she mimicked them, stopping by Lami's shop and then approaching the Jarl's longhouse. The people here were familiar enough with her to pass by with indifference. Highmoon Hall rose like a beacon through the mist, larger than any other building in Morthal. Several people stood outside it arguing with Aslfur, the Jarl's husband. The wood elf was no friend of his and used the distraction to slip into the hall unbothered.

Kirsen held a good deal of respect for Jarl Idgrod and her talents. This put her at odds with the elderly woman's husband, who seemed to spend a lot of time taking over her duties and undermining her. Still, it wasn't her place to quarrel with Alsfur and the Bosmer did her best to avoid him when she was in town. She hadn't come here to converse with the Jarl or her husband anyway. Once the door had been quietly closed behind her, Kirsen padded up the wooden stairs to her left without pause. The various nobles mingling inside meant Jarl Idgrod and any other important figures were oblivious to her presence.

The person she aimed to find stumbled into her as soon as Kirsen reached the top of the stairs. Reaching out to grab the railing for balance, the two women looked up with equally annoyed expressions. Their concerns melted simultaneously as recognition flickered in place of displeasure. Dark circles hung under the young woman's eyes despite the warmth that glowed within them. It was hard not to frown as concern for her friend flared up. Things seemed to have been difficult since the last time Kirsen had visited.

"Kirsen, I didn't know you were back in Morthal!" Idgrod the younger exclaimed, taking a step back.

Kirsen gratefully moved off the stairs and leaned upon the railing, "Just got back last night. I would've dropped by then, but it was late and we were exhausted."

"Your poor face, did you find trouble in the marshes?" Worry clouded Idgrod's expression.

"Don't I always?" She flashed a lopsided smile.

"I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. Was it frostbite spiders?"

"A chaurus. I'd never seen one out there before, so it caught me by surprise." She grimaced at the memory.

"You said "we" earlier, is you travelling companion alright?" Idgrod asked.

"Yeah, she's resting up now. We can't stay in Morthal long, I'm supposed to be escorting her to a place out past Solitude."

"I take it you'll be leaving tomorrow?"

"Probably this evening."

"Make sure you stock up on supplies before you do." Her friend insisted.

Before she could reply, Idgrod's younger brother came bustling out of her room with a book in hand. He waved at Kirsen before running down the stairs and down to the door leading outside. Idgrod stared after him fondly, and the wood elf knew that they couldn't chat forever. It was her job to watch over Joric and the young woman would have to follow him before too much longer. Still, Kirsen wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. 

"Anything big happen since the last time I was here?" She asked.

"Didn't you see Hrrogar's house on the way here? It burned down."

A stab of guilt made her stomach roll. Kirsen hadn't noticed anything more than the faint smell of ash in air. Last night she'd been too caught up with her interaction with the pretty vampire, and on her way here earlier the shame had resurfaced as she passed. Instead she just shrugged in an attempt to play her hesitantance off like anything other then the sickening feeling in her stomach.

"Oh, uh, yeah, what's up with that?"

Idgrod glanced around and leaned in to whisper, "Well, it was actually quite the scandal."

Kirsen motioned for her to continue, interest piquing at her friends conspiratory tone.

"His wife and daughter didn't make it out. There's a rumor going around that he started it himself." 

"Why in Oblivion would he do that?"

"Nobody knows for sure, but the very same night he moved in with Alva."

"Alva?" Kirsen asked with a sinking feeling.

"She moved in just after you left, I think. You can't miss her though, she's a pretty thing and half the guard drools over her every time she passes." Idgrod said with a huff.

"Is she the nord woman with dark hair? Honey-colored eyes?" Kirsen asked.

"Aye. Mother wishes we could find some proof that Hrrogar had something to do with it, but no one dares to go near the house." 

"Shit, you know I'd do it if I didn't have another obligation." Kirsen sighed.

"I doubt anyone else is brave enough to try, so the job will be here when you return." She snorted.

"I'll be sure to visit again soon."

Idgrod the Younger excused herself from the conversation, one hand lingering on Kirsen's arm in a gesture of affection before she left. The Bosmer watched her leave with a twinge of sadness, but she didn't follow right away. Once upon a time, she had considered being more than friends with the other woman. She was pretty, kind, and strong-willed; everything Kirsen looked for in a woman. But while her heart was drawn to the hunt, Idgrod's was to her family and her people. She was to follow in her mother's footsteps and be the next Jarl of Morthal. They had both agreed that things between them would never work out, no matter how much they wished them to.

A heavy, remorseful sigh found it's way out of her lungs. There was no use in pouring over old wounds right now. She had too much running through her mind to add another lingering regret into the churning mix. Kirsen made her way back down the stairs. Pausing just long enough to give Jarl Idgrod a respectful nod now that she wasn't busy, she exited Highmoon Hall. 

The crowd of townspeople had dispersed by now, thankfully. Even the sun had passed its height and began the slow descent towards the horizon. Judging by the length of the shadows around her, Kirsen figured they had roughly five or six hours before night fell and they would be ready to continue their journey. There were only two things left that she had planned to do before then; grab some extra food for the road and gather a few alchemy ingredients around town. Food would be easy enough to get, since Innkeeper's always had a fairly good supply for their patrons. 

The ingredients could easily be foraged without leaving the safety of Morthal. It was one of the few pros to living in this forsaken swamp. Fungi of all sorts were plentiful, as well as several deadly strains of flora that were tough to cultivate elsewhere. The vivid, violet petals of Deathbells were hard to miss, littering moist earth around the boardwalks like a toxic version of Whiterun's wildflowers. 

One could harvest them safely enough if they were careful, the petals and stems carried no danger by themselves. It was the clear nectar within that was to he feared. Injesting it was an excruciating, one-way ticket to Oblivion and even just a few drops on your skin could do serious damage. Kirsen kept a smaller leather pack within her main one specifically for ingredients like Deathbell, to keep the flowers seperate from the rest of her gear until the wounded stems dried out. She went about like this, collecting the purple flowers until the tiny satchel was just about full of them. 

She intended to look for some more ingredients after she was finished with the Deathbells, but something made her pause. The hairs on the back of her neck raised as an animalistic instinct surfaced within her. Something was wrong. Kirsen glanced around anxiously as foreboding flooded her thoughts. Nothing stood out immediately, everything seemed to be utterly ordinary. A pair of guards strolled out of the Guardhouse, Joric and another local boy raced along the boardwalk, hollering as they went. But something was definitely amiss, the wood elf trusted her instincts with these sort of things. They had never steered her wrong before. 

Movement in her peripheral vision caused Kirsen's head to jerk to the right. On the other side of town she could see a figure leaving the Moorside Inn. Even without moving closer to make out the blurry shape, she knew exactly who it was. Her hackles raised defensively and a low growl began to build in her throat. Leaping to her feet, the Bosmer had to make a serious effort not to sprint back to their room. Drawing attention to herself would do more harm then good, so she settled for a swift-paced walk. Alva would probably be long gone by the time she crossed town. 

She knew that Serana could handle herself, but the anxiety from earlier persisted with a sickening twinge. Kirsen possessed the only key to their rented room in Moorside, which eased her fears a tiny bit. The other vampire wouldn't risk blowing her cover to force her inside, surely. By the time she reached the steps leading up to the doorway Alva was indeed nowhere to be seen. She hadn't even thought to pay attention to which direction the vampiress had retreated in. 

The air around her tasted heavy, void of anything other than the vampire. It might have had no real scent to it, but it masked even her own scent from earlier. Her stomach rolled uncomfortably, a mix of nerves and disgust over the unnatural sterility it left in its wake. Kirsen opened the door quickly with a last glance over her shoulder. The feeling of eyes burning into her back from where she could not find was making the wood elf increasingly uneasy. Wherever Alva had disappeared to, she was still watching Kirsen.

Once inside, she sucked in a deep breath in an attempt steady her breathing. Jonna glanced up at her from across the room, but didn't say anything. The Redguard woman was carrying a bucket and a room towards another room on the far side of the inn. Kirsen muttered a hasty greeting before walking stiffly towards their room. Fishing the key out of her pocket, the Bosmer deftly opened the door and slid inside. The door shut heavily behind her, but she was too worried to care about the disruption at this point.

"Serana, are yo-" 

Kirsen's frantic question was cut off as she was shoved against the door suddenly. Her instincts went haywire, torn between the urge to fight back against the sudden assault and the rational part of her that insisted she stay still. A pair of glaring amber eyes stared into her own. Before the wood elf could decide on how to react, Serana pulled away as suddenly as she had attacked. Realization flashed across her features, and Kirsen guessed that her companion thought Alva had found a way into the room. They lingered there silently, both of them looking more embarrassed then defensive at this point.

"Sorry." Serana said after a moment.

"It's fine, hey, are you okay?" She was worried, rather then offended.

"Did you know there was another vampire here?"

The question caught Kirsen off-guard and she hesitated. Apparently that was all the answer Serana needed, and she turned away with a huff. While guilt continued to roll in her stomach, a flash of anger made itself known too. As far as the Bosmer could tell, Alva hadn't managed to get in the room. And she had come running back as soon as she realized something wasn't right, so part of Kirsen felt that Serana's anger was unjustified.

"I wouldn't have let her hurt you." She insisted hotly.

Serana just scoffed, "You think I was worried about that? I can handle myself."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"Bullshit." 

Serana might have had the advantage of height while she glared down at Kirsen, but the wood elf refused to be intimidated by that fact. If all the fistfights she'd gotten in had taught her anything, it was that any good argument hinged on intimidation and she wasn't about to give in. The more logical side of her was still reeling as it tried to figure out how she had gone from concern to anger. There was just something about Serana that brought out her childish side.

"I rushed over here as soon as I realized something was wrong, what more do you want?"

"Maybe an escort who won't roll over and show her belly to the first pretty vampire that she comes across?"

"That's not what happened."

"Well, her seduction sure kept you quiet about her presence."

"I could have fought it, if I needed to," Kirsen insisted with a growl, "But we're leaving tonight anyway. I didn't think she'd try to confront you."

"Sure." Serana was back to one-word answers. 

When the other woman turned away and started to lay back down, Kirsen finally sighed. Serana had a point, even though the Bosmer was loathe to admit that fact out loud. Her guilt over the whole situation was making her more defensive then she needed to be. It was probably hard enough for the vampire to try and get her bearings in an era she knew nothing about, without worrying that her only guide could be whisked away so easily. 

"Look, I'm sorry that I didn't say anything about Alva last night." Kirsen forced herself not to add any extra barbs.

She couldn't see Serana's face, but her tone wasn't malicious when she spoke, "It's...okay. You were right to keep the key with you."

There wasn't a spoken apology on the other woman'send, but Kirsen was beginning to understand her mannerisms. Serana had admitted that the Bosmer thought ahead and acted with her safety in mind. It was the closest she would get to an "I'm sorry I didn't trust you". Even if they butted heads often, at least their arguements could be resolved swiftly it seemed. A thought occured to Kirsen.

"Hey, that uh...seduction thing Alva used to keep me quiet. Can all vampires do that?"

"Generally, yes."

It was quiet between them for several long moments. 

"Why didn't you use it on me when we first met?" She asked cautiously.

"Who says I didn't?" 

Before Kirsen had a chance to do anything more than blubber in shock, Serana rolled over to face her. 

"Relax, I'm just pulling your leg."

"That was pretty good." Kirsen conceded, rubbing the back of her neck.

"But to answer you seriously, I didn't think I needed to."

"How modest of you." She rolled her eyes.

Serana scoffed at her, "That's not what I meant. It was a unique situation and I felt like we could work things out civilly, without having to use any powers."

"You're lucky I was the one who found you. Any other Dawnguard member would have put a bolt in your forehead." Kirsen pointed out.

"Well, then I'm glad it was you."

The air between them settled and Kirsen finally managed to let go of some of her guilt. Now that the danger had passed, she found herself unsure of what to do next. Part of her wanted to let Serana get as much rest as she could, but the other continued to worry about Alva. Maybe it would be smarter for them to get out of Morthal as soon as they could and find somewhere else to crash on the way to Solitude. If they were lucky, they might even be able to reach the city itself before needing to rest again. 

"I think we should get going." Kirsen suggested, "If you're ready, that is."

"Sounds good to me." The vampire nodded.

Together they began to gather up their supplies, with Kirsen bearing the most of their potions and craftable items. Serana would carry their food and map, so that she could start learning the layout of Skyrim. A grimace crossed the Nord woman's face as she slipped into her tattered boot and noted just how little protection it would bring in its condition. They would have to flag down a caravan or passing merchant on the road.

The crackling of the hearth seemed to be the only lively thing left in the inn as they left, and Kirsen dropped a few extra septims on the counter. She knew Jonna would never accept the charity outright, but the wood elf felt it necessary to help out where she could. Skyrim was an unforgiving place and she liked to hold onto the few honest people that struggled to make a living here. Beside her, Serana's eyes were unreadable, but they followed Kirsen's every move. The Bosmer felt her cheeks darken and she tugged at her chest plate distractedly.

Outside, clouds obscured what little of the midday sunlight was left. There was enough shade that her companion didn't seem bothered enough to pull her hood on, the slightest of smiles pulling at her lips. Kirsen led the way through the streets, noting how barren they were already. It was always odd to notice how little the people of Morthal milled about outside of their homes and shops. The land simply wasn't hospitable enough to meander outside unless there was a job that called for it. 

They trekked on in silence, muscles tense and senses on guard until they had long since passed the outskirts of town. The sun was in the process of setting, the sounds of nocturnal creatures emerging from their daily slumber formed a comforting symphony. Kirsen appreciated the outdoors as much as any Bosmer, even more so thanks to her upbringing. Her mood improved significantly the further they ventured into the wilderness. Serana, however, didn't seem to share these good spirits and was grumbling under her breath. 

"This swamp nearly killed us yesterday, how are you so happy?" She growled.

"It's not so bad when you aren't bloody and exhausted." Kirsen shrugged.

"I don't see why we had to leave the trail, though. We're asking to get attacked again."

"It'll be harder for anyone to track us this way. And besides, I doubt anything will be able to sneak past your ears or my nose." She pointed out.

The vampire continued to complain, albeit low enough that she couldn't make out the words anymore. Kirsen rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile. She was beginning to think that Serana could find fault with nearly anything, and decided it wasn't worth arguing any further. Another day or so of travel and they would reach Solitude. After that, it wouldn't take goo lang after that to arrive at Serana's family home. 

A strange pang of sadness shook Kirsen, something she couldn't quite put a reason behind. She pondered what would after that, would the two of them go their seperate ways? The Bosmer decided it wasn't worth worrying about at the moment. There was no telling what would happen between then and now. The only thing she needed to concern herself with was getting them there in one piece. 

After that, only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this chapter! Life got in the way and I didn't have a chance to finish it up until today :'D
> 
> As a side note, I am planning on participating in NaNoWriMo this November, so there might not be any updates her until next month! I hope you all have a lovely day and thank you for reading!!!


	5. The Sea Over Sand

The atmosphere in the city of Solitude could only be described as stuffy. Compared to a relatively smaller town like Morthal, with its few scattered buildings around a near-barren wasteland, it felt like the towering walls were pressing around her suffocatingly. Serana had spent her fair share of time cooped up in claustrophobia-inducing conditions. She couldn't wait until they were out of this town, but her companion had other plans.

"Hey, at least we received a better welcome then when I first visited Solitude." 

Serana retorted, "We didn't receive any welcome."

"I got greeted with a man's execution." Despite the irritating grin on Kirsen's face, Serana had a feeling that wasn't a joke.

Tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, so tangible that the vampire pondered if it would tear under her sharp teeth. The people of Solitude were on edge and it was growing more evident with every step. At least, that's how it felt as an outsider. Even Kirsen seemed subdued as they made their way through the cobbled streets. There was a defensiveness about the little Bosmer, a state of being she recognized as someone who had spent years walking on eggshells. Serana had half a mind to ask about it, curiousity gnawing at her since that morning in Morthal. There hadn't been any more personal talks and she was only slightly relieved by that fact.

"I say we take a rest here and leave at sun-down." Kirsen suggested, slowing to walk beside her.

"Will that be enough of a break?" The taller woman asked.

"I don't think either of us wants to stay here longer than we have to."

Kirsen had a point, which she gave a nod of acknowledgment to. The late-morning sun beat down on them harshly. Serana didn't much like all of these open cities with their miniscule attempts at cover. Surely they could invest in an awning that stretched the length of their town, so that there was a covered path for stormy days? And if it doubled as a safe place for a certain vampire to walk beneath then she certainly wouldn't be one to complain. 

Despite its lack of protection for someone like her, Serana couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of the buildings. Even the walls flanking the city's perimeter dwarfed anything she had seen before. The dark stones they were made up of looked cool to the touch and she longed to run a hand over them. As was the case with most immortal beings similar to vampires, she had been raised to be cultured and appreciative of such fine works of architecture. The buildings themselves varied in size with the mercantile ones seeming to outsize the housing districts. 

Large swathes of hanging moss clung to almost every structure, a symptom of the huge buildings being difficult to access for maintenance. Serana considered suggesting that Kirsen offer to climb up and clean them. As they travelled she had noticed the Bosmer's propensity towards scaling anything she came across; from oddly stacked boulders on the side of the road to the railings on bridges. If it could be easily climbed atop without going out of their way, then Kirsen was going to climb on top of it. The vampire longed to ask the reason behind it, but felt it a little rude to just blurt out. Her main hypothesis was either her cat-like instincts bleeding through even without being shifted or that the abnormally-short Bosmer simply liked to feel tall. 

Her musings were interrupted by a raucous group of children dashing through the street with little care. The leader ducked between the two women in an effort to throw off his pursuers, to little avail. Serana's amber eyes trailed them for a few moments thoughtfully. She couldn't remember much of being that young and carefree, it had always felt as though her parents expected greater things for her. If the nord woman had ever gone running through the streets with friends she certainly didn't remember it. The prickling sensation of being watched made her glance back, but Kirsen was staring steadfastly at the sky at this point.

"Need anything in specific?" She asked Serana with an overly disinterested look.

Serana decided not to comment on that fact and instead replied, "A thicker pair of boots might be nice."

During their trek across Morthal's swampland and over to a boat docked on the edge of it (which Kirsen had conveniently declined to explain how she knew would be there), there had been little to no chance for finding a stray merchant. Serana's body began the first chords of the singing blood-hunger pangs just as they happened upon a curious formation of stone. The Bosmer had referred to it as a "Standing Stone", a curiosity that she hadn't come across before being locked away in that tomb. Luckily for her, a Necromancer was crouched in prayer in front of the stone; when they left Serana had satiated her thirst and sported a new, albeit thin, pair of shoes. They weren't all that comfy and the backs had a tendency to slip off her heels every other step, but they had gotten her this far at least.

Kirsen fished a handful of septims out of her coin purse and flashed her teeth, "Don't spend it all in one place."

"I hope you're not expecting me to pay you back when we reach Castle Volkihar." She shot back.

"Are all vampires this stingy?" At least the Bosmer had the sense to lower her voice.

"Just the royal ones."

That managed to get a genuine laugh out of Kirsen, who rolled her eyes despite their playful glimmer. Her sense of humor only seemed to grow as the two travelled and slowly became more comfortable with one another. With a final noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort, the smaller woman padded to the store just across from the one Serana intended to enter. From where she was standing, the hanging sign seemed to indicate an apothecary. That wasn't much of a surprise. 

Once the other woman had disappeared into the building, Serana turned to enter the Radiant Raiment. The interior was as pleasant as one would assume a fine clothier's shop to be. It's entryway made of pristine stone appeared to be freshly cleaned and there was a pleasant warmth emitting from a hearth that she couldn't quite see yet. At the counter stood a pair of strikingly similar Altmer, most likely sisters judging by their similar age. Not that it was always easy to tell when it came to Mer. One of them glanced at Serana dismissively, while the other didn't even dignify her with that. 

"Welcome, here to get rid of those rags?" The Altmer woman asked.

Serana made a concentrated effort not to glower as she responded curtly, "How much for that pair of boots?"

Her original intention had been to peruse the few shelves to the far side of the counter or even the cupboard behind it, but that idea was squashed by the High elves haughty expression. If she hadn't been in dire need of new footwear Serana would have laid into them. Regardless, it was for the best that they try not to draw attention to themselves until the vampire knew who and what exactly were after her.

"If you have to ask then this probably isn't the shop for you." One of the sisters scoffed.

"How am I supposed to pay you if I don't know the price?" Serana growled.

Unsurprisingly, neither of the elves had an answer to that. The one who had originally greeted her moved over to the leather boots Serana had pointed out and the other stalked off through a doorway. She approached the counter with a deliberate slowness. The leather boots were of high quality from what she could tell, made from a sturdy hide and decorated with fur around the top. After the vampire decided that they were definitely the style she wanted the Altmer woman brought a few extra pairs up to the counter. It took three tries before she found ones that fit snugly. 

Once they had been paid for, and the older pair of shoes sold with reluctance on the High elf's side, Serana made for the door. As soon as she stepped foot outside something felt off. A scent drifting by on the breeze caught her attention. There was another vampire in this city too. She huffed in annoyance at the realization, when had her kind become so prevalent in Skyrim? If they weren't such a territorial breed it would impressive. But the memory of Alva and the near-miss of disaster they had already managed to avoid rang in the front of her mind. 

The scent was surprisingly stale when she stopped to really focus; was it there when she entered the store? She couldn't remember paying attention to anything other than Kirsen's laughter. 'When did that annoying, little elf become so distracting?' That sudden cognizance didn't sit well with Serana for some reason and she shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Whoever this other vampire was, they hadn't passed by here today and that was what counted. 

She tugged on her hood self-consciously before marching across the way to the shop Kirsen had entered. The hanging sign outside revealed that it was called "Angeline's Aromatics". As she reached for the door, it flew open to reveal just the person she was looking for. The Bosmer peered up at her startled for just a second before smiling. Serana felt as though she had to force herself to return the gesture, the thoughts from earlier rearing up. If this much was evident upon her features, then Kirsen didn't seem to notice it. She swept past Serana with a wave of her hand. 

"Come on, we've got something to do really quick."

"What did you get yourself into this time?"

"Hey, I don't think I've gotten us in enough trouble yet to warrant that tone." Kirsen insisted, "and I'm just running an errand for the alchemist.

"Don't they have an apprentice for that normally?" 

She followed the wood elf up a twisting incline rife with broken, old stones and moss. It was a rather nice touch that melded well with the rest of the city. A simple staircase would have seemed out of place, in the vampire's opinion. Two stores greeted them upon reaching the top of the path, one on either side. The one on the right was a large, open blacksmith that seemed to encourage the weary travellers to stop by and mend their weapons. Kirsen was quick to carry on despite her companion's pausing to admire the layout of Solitude. 

They continued through an archway in the towering stone wall, which led to an equally large courtyard. At least a dozen men in the telltale armor of the Solitude guard littered the area. Some of them were sparring with each other or with training dummies, while others seemed to be practicing some sort of drill. Serana didn't care enough to really pay attention to them. She followed behind Kirsen as she approached a decorated soldier holding a scroll and quill. With the amount of trained soldiers in the area Serana felt compelled to hang back as the two of them began to talk. Even with the recent feeding that had dulled her eyes to a more natural shade of amber, it was best not to risk there being any suspicion placed in her in an environment such as this.

The conversation didn't last long and Kirsen turned back to her with an unreadable expression. Even the captain she had spoken to looked incredibly somber. She waited patiently for an explanation, but the Bosmer trudged past her without a word. The unhappiness rolled off of her in waves that were practically palpable. It wasn't until they had reached the ramp again that Serana had the will to speak up.

"So, what's this about?"

"The kind lady that runs the shop, Mrs. Morrard, wanted someone to talk to the Captain. He's been giving her the run around concerning her daughter. She was stationed in Whiterun." Kirsen said quietly.

It was all she needed to say, as Serana understood the situation with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Part of her wished that Kirsen just hadn't bothered to get involved. They had much more important things to be dealing with and delivering news like this was an unnecessary source of stress when there was already so much breathing down their necks. It was a selfish thought, and Serana had a feeling that the wood elf was prone to getting herself into things like this. She was escorting the vampire home after virtually being sent to kill her, after all. 

They were standing in front of the door to Angeline's Aromatics all too soon. Beside her, Kirsen looked as though she was trying to disappear into the ground. She rested her hand on the Bosmer's shoulder briefly, in a fleeting gesture of encouragement. It spurred her companion into finally pulling open the door and slipping inside. Serana toyed with the idea of waiting where she was, but eventually decided better of it and followed after Kirsen.

Candles flickered dimly from their sconces, leaving the room with a distinctly gloomy feel. The neatly organized counters and cupboards told a different story and Serana wondered if somehow the building knew that it was time to mourn. It was a silly thought for someone like her, and the vampire dismissed it quickly. The woman who ran the shop had probably forgotten to keep the candles well-lit in her eagerness to get an answer. 

She spotted Kirsen on the far side of the room, back past the counter, speaking in a low tone with an elderly Breton. As Serana moved to stand by her companion she passed a little alcove containing an alchemy lab. Several ingredients were scattered around the length of it, having been discarded very recently by the looks of it. The Breton woman, Mrs. Morrard presumably, braced herself on the counter with one arm.

"What did he say?" She rasped, even though the look on Kirsen's face was explanation enough.

"Mrs. Morrard...your daughter...she," the wood elf swallowed thickly before continuing, "She was a part of a scouting party. None of them made it back."

Serana closed her eyes and desperately wished that she could do the same with her ears. It took quite a bit of effort to block out the woman's anguished rant. Not out of dislike or unhappiness, but to ward off the stabbing pity she knew would plague her if she didn't. There was something especially unfair about a parent outliving their child. When she tuned back in, the conversation was coming to an end.

"I can't thank you, not for this, but you've done me a service. I appreciate that, Kirsen." Mrs. Morrard said.

"It was least I could do. If there's anything I can do to help you before we leave..." 

"No, no, you've done enough." The elderly woman paused, "I hope your parents are proud of you, they have a lot of reason to be."

It was Kirsen's turn to look pained, answering with a bittersweet smile, "I like to think my father was."

The two of them shared a moment of silent sympathy that left Serana feeling sorely out of place. Here was another small glimpse into Kirsen's past that she shouldn't have been privy to, they had agreed there wouldn't be any heart-to-hearts. It felt uncomfortably similar to eavesdropping at this point. Still, curiosity crept in around the edges of her mind, longing to hear the story behind it. Being alive for centuries made day to day life relatively dull, but other people's lives? Now those could definitely be interesting. A pang of self-reproach shook Serana as she realized how callous that sounded.

It was several hours later, and they were making their way down the road out of Solitude, before either of them spoke again. Masser and Secunda hung low in the sky as they began their ascent into the heavens. Pale, luminescence guided their path with little trouble. It was the kind of night that left someone like her feeling restless and antsy. These twilight hours were perfect for hunting, but while the body was willing the spirit was not. 

Kirsen was the first to break the silence, "Hey...I'm sorry about back there. I didn't expect it to be anything that...serious."

"I understand." Serana took a second to reflect before continuing with, "I'm sorry about your father."

In the vampire's mind it was more of an apology for her own internal lapse of manners, but Serana didn't intend to say so out loud. Expressing sympathy over the loss of a loved one was a common courtesy that would be accepted far more easily. There was a nearly imperceptible hiccup in Kirsen's step and she pretended not to notice it. Somehow she figured it was best not to draw attention to that.

"It's...its alright, thank you, Serana." Her companion offered up a ghost of a smile.

"We don't have to say anything more on the subject." She stated a little too quickly.

The Bosmer looked up at the stars glittering coldly, "I don't mind talking about him. It's better to get it out sometimes, you know?"

"Oh." Was all Serana could think to say.

"Some days it's hard to imagine that he's really gone. He went out hunting with a couple other Silver Hand members and just...never came home. We found one of them...torn to pieces, but it wasn't him." 

"I'm sorry, that must have been...really tough." She murmured.

Kirsen didn't speak again after that, but she did smile sadly and nudge Serana with her shoulder affectionately. At the beginning of their travels she would have flinched away from the motion. They'd only really known each other for about a week now, even if it had sometimes felt like ages. Risking your skin for someone else helped to bring you together, however, and under any other circumstances Serana would have been compelled to label them as "friends". Unfortunately the reality of the situation was that Kirsen hunted vampires and Serana was very important to other vampires, even if she couldn't remember all of the details pertaining to that. When they reached Volkihar Castle things could get ugly at worst. At their best, she and Kirsen would probably never see each other again. 

The Bosmer woman seemed to have caught onto her dampening attitude and shifted to allow more space between them as they trudged through the thickening layer of snow on the ground. She channeled her disappointment over this into a stronger resolve towards making it home before morning. Thick powder muted the crunch of footsteps, which wouldn't have been quite so noticeable if a curtain of silence hadn't been drawn between them. The hours inched by like sap dripping down a tree trunk without any easy conversation to pass the time. 

Biting winds threatened to slice through Serana's weathered armor, although they would have been more intimidating if the cold still bothered her. As it was, being a vampire meant an eternally cold existence from the inside out and she had long since grown accustomed to the chill. The moons were now poised directly overhead, bathing the landscape in a pallid countenance. Kirsen motioned to her from further up the rise. In this lighting the wood elf could easily pass for a frost-ridden tree, her dark hair speckled with freezing powder.

Her deep, brown eyes appeared brighter than they had since they'd set out from Solitude. Serana deftly maneuvered her way up the slope to see just what had lifted Kirsen's spirits so quickly and gasped as she reached the top. From where they were standing one could barely make out the looming, shadowy shape that was unmistakably her home. Between Castle Volkihar and the mountaintop was an expanse of undisturbed snow. It glittered and shone in the moonlight, dappled by cloud shadows and trees. The sight was breathtaking, to say the least. Serana felt as though she could stare out over the land until morning came.

The vampire's reverie was broken by the sound of boots scraping on frozen rocks. She jerked her head to the side, half expecting well...anything other than Kirsen really. It was remarkable just how swiftly the Bosmer could cause Serana to switch from amiable-feeling to utterly annoyed. Seriously, it had to break some sort of record.

"What are you doing?" She asked incredulously.

Kirsen looked up at her and then back down to where her bottom half had disappeared over the edge of the mountain. When she made eye contact with Serana again her face was a mask of confusion.

"I'm climbing down the mountain?" 

"Why are you climbing down the mountain?" She closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples.

"If we want to make it to your home before dawn then this is the best route." 

"There's no point in making it there by dawn if we break our necks along the way." Serana retorted.

"I won't let you break your neck." Kirsen shuffled back up to stand beside her, "Here, put your feet exactly where I did."

She glared at the wood elf just to make a point, but eventually made her way slowly to the ledge. While it had seemed like a dead-drop at first glance, the slop wasn't anywhere near as sheer as the vampire had assumed it would be. This still wouldn't have been her first choice of paths to take. The challenging glint in Kirsen's eyes was enough to bring out Serana's stubborn side, unfortunately. She would sooner take the long way down the mountain then let her companion think she was scared. The more logical side of her chastised herself for being so easily goaded into a bad decision. 

Kirsen started by showing her the easiest spots to lodge her boots into and how to find the best handholds. Once they had made it a quarter of the way down the mountain, Serana began to get the hang of it. The Bosmer made it look like second nature with the ease at which she descended over the rocks. She had obviously spent a lot of time travelling this way. Dimly, the vampire considered asking how Kirsen had become so well-versed in the craft. But it was for the best that she grit her teeth and stay focused at the task at hand. A fall from this height could be deadly even for an immortal being. Maybe lycanthropes were built of sturdier things, so that tumbling off the side of a mountain was as unconcerning as falling out of bed. Or maybe Kirsen just had a death wish, for herself and for Serana.

Despite the misgivings that plagued her, they made it to the bottom of the slope with only one nearly-sprained ankle. If Kirsen hadn't gotten her into the situation in the first place then she would have been more apt to thank the Bosmer for quickly wrapping an arm around Serana's waist to steady her. The rest of their climb was spent close enough that their skin brushed. It left the vampire missing the warmth of Kirsen's body more than she wanted to admit when they finally stepped apart.

From there it was a brisk walk past a well-kept fortress that Kirsen labeled as "Northwatch Keep". The Bosmer was adamant about skirting around the far edges of it, just out of the sight of any patrolling guards. She didn't offer up any more explanation than "one too many bad encounters" and Serana wondered just how intimidating the occupants had to be to put off a woman who had shimmied down the side of a mountain just minutes before. 

When they finally reached the Icewater Jetty, she began to feel anxiety creeping through her bones. It was easier to ignore the reality of what they were about to do when Serana could focus on just surviving the trip here. Now that she was actually faced with walking into her parents home after...centuries, it was another story. Kirsen stepped up beside her with an expression that was nearly unreadable. Whatever the Bosmer felt deep inside was to remain hidden, but Serana felt comforted by the resolution that masked the rest. At least there was one certainty that the vampire could count on; that Kirsen had stuck by her this far and continue to be here no matter who greeted her at the castle.

It was that thought that gave her the strength to step into the rowboat on the dock first. Above them the sky was awash with colorful lights, a guiding shine to usher them across the dark waters ahead. Kirsen suppressed a shiver as she joined Serana in the boat. The wood elf might have had little trouble wading through murky, swamp water, but apparently the choppy ocean waves were a different story. Serana took over the brunt of the rowing, even though her arms were beginning to protest. Her companion slunk lower in the boat and glued her sights to the dancing lights rather than the water. 

The boat lurched to a halt all too quickly, signalling their arrival at Castle Volkihar. Serana took a moment to steady her breathing before turning to look up at the hulking mass of stone. Even all this time later the gates tugged at her heart with their familiarity. It was home through and through, even if the rest of the island was beginning to show its age. Had it always seemed so dull and lifeless here? Even the birds of prey that circled high above them looked gaunt. She wouldn't have put it past her father to make their home look as intimidating as possible, in an effort to deter any unwanted attention.

"Wow." Kirsen breathed in wonder, having wasted no time in leaping back onto solid ground, "It's pretty impressive."

"It's something alright." 

The large, arching bridge of stone that led to the castle gates was guarded by three sets of gargoyles. Serana tried to remember if they had been there before she was sealed within Dimhollow Crypt, but the memories evaded her. It would take some time to rebuild the pieces of her past, as her body appeared to still be getting used to being awake once more. She hoped it would be sooner rather than later. Instead of chancing the bridge right away, the vampire turned to her companion, who also seemed to be eyeing the ugly statues warily.

"Hey, so, before we go in there..." She trailed off.

Kirsen glanced over, "What is it?"

Concern caused the Bosmer's brow to furrow and she felt a pang of...well, affection. Growing attached to the person who was only supposed to escort her home hadn't been anticipated. Still, it was hard not to appreciate Kirsen for the several occasions she had saved the vampire's life. Even that infuriating lopsided smile that precluded one of her stupid jokes had begun to grow on her. 

"I just wanted to say...thank you. For getting me this far." She continued hesitantly, "But once we're inside I think I'm going to go my own way for awhile."

Kirsen looked like she was going to object, so Serana cut her off quickly, "I know you're uh, 'friends', would want you to kill everything in there. I hope that you can show a little more..."

"Discretion?"

"I was going to say "control", but if the shoe fits. Anyway I'd suggest keeping quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead." Serana said. 

"Ah." 

The wood elf still looked a tad conflicted, but eventually she just nodded. Serana took it as cue to start moving again and the two crept passed the gargoyles nervously. But nothing around them moved, save for the steady crashing waves around the island, and they reached the gates unimpeded. Even with the obvious knowledge of vampiric immortality she was a bit surprised to find herself greeted by the familiar face of the Volkihar Watchman.

"Lady Serana's back! Open the gate!"

There was no turning back now and Serana paused to share a swift glance with Kirsen. She could tell that the Bosmer had the utmost trust in her judgement. Looking back as the rusty gates squealed unhappily, she could only hope that it was well placed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't end up keeping up with my plans for NaNoWriMo unfortunately (depression is a bitch, ugh) but at least I got this chapter finished up!
> 
> I'm going to try and get back into the flow of writing chapters for this story again too! Writing about Kirsen has been so much fun, and has definitely helped on my lowest days. Maybe I'll even get some art done for this story! As always, any tips and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated!


	6. Oh the River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a quick note; im writing ahkari as genderfluid, since they are referred to as both female and male in game. im genderfluid myself, so i wont pass up the opportunity for representation lmao

Despite having spent the vast majority of her life committing herself to the art of the huntsman, despite having the ability to shift into a very large cat of all things, and despite everything her father had ever taught her; keeping quiet was not Kirsen's strong suit. That's not to say she didn't at least try to keep her mouth shut. Things would have gone off without a hitch if Lord Harkon hadn't turned out to be the father of all douchebags. Her first mistake was forgetting just how keen the ears of a vampire could be.

When Lord Harkon asked about the Elder Scroll before even considering to see how his daughter was doing, Kirsen might have muttered some unsavory things under breath. She only realized the error when Serana shot her a furious warning glance. Her father's expression hadn't changed at all, but then again, it had been unpleasant from the beginning. Things spiraled from that point as the Bosmer continued to push her luck. The Volkihar family might have been royalty among vampires, but they held no power of Kirsen and she hadn't led Serana all of this way just to roll over and show her belly. She was still a member of the Dawnguard after all. 

"Khajiit thinks that this one has a death wish." Her tale was interrupted suddenly.

"Hey, I made it out, didn't I?" Kirsen jabbed a wobbly finger at Kharjo.

"And now you are drinking to forget the near-death experience."

"I would be drinking regardless, anyways, hush! Where was I?"

Oh yes, the straw that broke the horse's back. When the subject of her payment came up tension laced the air. Lord Harkon offered to "purge her of the lycanthropic filth" by turning her into a pure-blooded vampire. And while Kirsen didn't always see her condition as a gift, a certain amount of pride still existed. Beside her Serana attempted to reach out to calm her, but something animalistic emerged as soon as Lord Harkon demonstrated the extent of his powers. She fell onto all fours and shifted before any of them could even blink, meeting the Vampire Lord with a fearsome roar. Kirsen thought that he had seemed a tiny bit impressed. Just a tiny bit.

At that point Serana slipped between them and reminded them both firmly that Kirsen had brought her home safely. Begrudgingly, Lord Harkon had conceded to that fact and decided not to kill her on the spot. He banished the were-sabrecat with a flick of his hand. She found herself back at the little rowboat quite suddenly. The price she paid for the rash decision was a long, cold swim back to the mainland. Massive paws were not made for maneuvering skinny wooden oars. 

"I didn't even get to say goodbye." Kirsen lamented with another gulp of mead.

"You wanted to say goodbye to the vampires?"

"No, yes, well...just one of the vampires. Just Serana." 

It had been around three months since Kirsen was originally tasked with returning the vampire to her family home. Unlike the vast majority of companions that drifted in and out of her life, Serana's absence was as noticeable as misplacing your favorite shirt. Sure, you could wear plenty of other clothes and function just fine, but there was this underlying pang of...sadness. She had already been chastised by Kharjo several times over it. 

"For a cat-beast, this one sure acts a lot like a lovesick puppy." He sighed for the tenth time in two days.

Kirsen just shook her head forlornly, "You would understand if you had met her. Besides, I'll never see her again so there won't be any consequences for mooning over her now."

"This one will never understand your love of unobtainable women."

"That reminds me, did I ever tell you about that thief that robbed me on the side of the road?"

He mimicked her voice in reply, "The one with the prettiest, blue eyes in all of Tamriel."

"I met her again when I went to visit my uncle in Riften. She didn't like my pickup lines and stabbed me in the gut."

Kharjo rolled his eyes and got up to patrol around the caravan once more. The Khajiit's had been kind enough to let her travel with them as a token of appreciation for her retrieving Kharjo's moon amulet. Even if that hadn't been the case, they liked having Kirsen around most of the time. Her scent had a tendency to ward off scavenging predators and anything that wasn't put off by a lycanthrope could normally be talked down using her natural talents as a Wood Elf. It was one thing about her culture that resonated even though she had been born far from Valenwood. She couldn't always find the right words to calm wild beast, but any attempts were much appreciated by the caravan.

The fire flickering in front of her did little to keep her distracted from her feelings, leaving Kirsen to stare into it with unseeing eyes. Maybe if she would've learned how to hold her tongue then she could have talked to Serana a little longer. The vampire had wanted to get sense of the era she'd awoken to, but what if her father wasn't pleased to see her again? Then Serana would be stranded on an island of possible enemies and Kirsen would be halfway across Skyrim drinking away her loneliness. 

She finished off the tankard of mead with a grumble, fighting off the pang of guilt it brought. Anxious thoughts always plagued her mind between the stages of tipsy and blacking-out. The likely hood of Serana ever needing her again was slim to none, she was a vampire with a more powerful vampire for a father; she would be fine. In fact, Isran's furious rant about how Kirsen had just walked away from a coven of future Dawnguard enemies was far more believable. Not that she wanted to remember her return to the Dawnguard Fortress much at the moment. Her thoughts were interrupted as a shadow stretched over the Bosmer.

"This one has eaten recently?" Akhari asked.

Kirsen pointed to the empty bowl of stew at her feet, blinkly up at them blurrily.

"What about hunting? The drink shall not affect the beast?" They asked, sounding less like a worried mother this time.

"Yes, I've hunted recently and no, being drunk has never caused me to shift before."

"And the moons?"

"We've got another three days before they're full." Kirsen sighed.

She didn't bother explaining to Ahkari that her particular strain of lycanthropy wasn't strongest at the full moons anyway, but rather during the new moons. The caravan leader was just trying to be cautious around Kirsen and she understood that. Just because they had been trustworthy enough for her to let the Khajiits in on her secret didn't mean they were able to forget their fears. She had learned not to let that hurt her feelings by now. 

"You will be gone by then, yes?" Ahkari asked.

"The person I'm looking for is in the Reach, so yes, I'll be going my own way in the morning."

This seemed to please the Khajiit at last and they patted her on the shoulder affectionately. Despite the mother-hen treatment, Kirsen quite liked being around Ahkari and their caravan. Their fleeting grasp on their gender and pronouns was a welcome change to what the Bosmer was used to in Skyrim. She had never once heard the other three Khajiit utter a backhanded remark about the way Ahkari presented themself. It reminded her of growing up with her father, only without the stupid pseudo-bandits lurking around the corners waiting to sneer unhappily. 

Nostalgia wrapped around her heart, nestling in beside the ridiculous amount of sadness and making Kirsen wish she had another bottle of mead to down. It was getting late and the other two members of the caravan had already turned in for the night. Ahkari padded off to settle down aswell, as Kharjo's steady pacing sounded in the shadows just out of sight. But Kirsen didn't want to sleep, she wasn't in the mood for the nightmares that followed.

The Reach was a long ways away, however, and her body needed what little rest it could get. Part of her wished she could just ignore the task she'd been assigned. It was more of a punishment than anything else, as Isran had insinuated that if Kirsen didn't return with Gunmar and Sorine, then she might as well not come back at all. She'd already found the burly Nord and sent him on ahead to the Fort. There hadn't been a good moment to admit to her lycanthropy, but Isran would surely inform Gunmar as soon as he arrived. The trust that had been placed in her as another Dawnguard member would be shattered by the time she went back. 

She finally kicked the empty tankard aside and made for the spare bedroll Ahkari had laid out. It was thinner than Kirsen would have liked, but it was better than curling up on the bare ground. The steady sound of Kharjo's footsteps and the crackling of flames eventually lulled her into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were plagued with fuzzy memories, like they always were. Every time she lurched awake from one of them, another followed soon afterwards. 

Morning came far quicker and somehow not soon enough at the same time. Ahkari and the rest of the Caravan were up at dawn, packing up their tents and checking on the horses that pulled the cart itself. Kirsen waved them off with sleep-heavy eyes. She didn't manage to rouse herself completely until long after they had disappeared from sight. The sun was still climbing across the sky slowly, it wouldn't be very long before morning bled into afternoon. Mentally she cursed herself for not leaving sooner. Ahkari had been kind enough to leave her the bedroll, but Kirsen half-wished that they had forced her awake by taking the dumb thing with them. 

All of the sudden loud footsteps cut into her thoughts, startling the Bosmer out of her sleep-ridden scolding. She scrambled to her feet with teeth already bared in a snarl. Reaching haphazardly around her feet without looking away from the source of the sound, Kirsen grabbed the first item she could reach and whipped it forward threateningly. The shape that rounded the bend in the trail didn't seem at all bothered, breaking into a startled sort of laughter.

"Are you threatening me with a mug?" 

"Kharjo, wha-what are you still doing here?" Kirsen sputtered incredulously.

"Ahkari ordered this one to make sure you didn't get yourself killed on the way to Markarth." 

"I can take care of myself."

"Khajiit may have...embellished the truth. He thought you might appreciate the company." 

She bit back a sharp remark this time, feeling touched, "Thank you, Kharjo. I'll try not to keep you away from the caravan for too long."

Out of anyone who could have decided to tag along with her right now, Kirsen couldn't think of someone she'd rather have than Kharjo. He wasn't afraid to meet her dumb jokes with snark that could leave scars in the toughest of tree bark. And perhaps the Bosmer liked travelling with a man who showed no interest in her. Their tastes were exactly the opposite when it came to flirting, which meant that Kirsen had the women to herself and Kharjo had the men to himself. Not that they often had the time to play wingman for each other.

"So, who are supposed to be looking for?"

"A Breton woman named Sorine."

"Doesn't ring any bells."

"She's an expert on Dwemer technology according to Isran."

"Markarth is built from their ruins, isn't it?"

"Yep." Kirsen started securing the bedroll onto her travel pack, "Which means lots of options for her to be at."

"Let me guess, this Isran didn't tell you exactly where to find her?"

"They had a falling out."

"Oh, joy."

She double checked her bag for all her necessities, nodding to Kharjo after she finished. The Khajiit led the way down the dirt path until they reached the main roads once more. Warmth seeped into her bones as the sun reached its peak far above them. Kirsen felt as thought the bags under her eyes captured all of her sleeplessness, forcing it to linger there no matter who many times she tried to shake the clinging exhaustion. What she needed was a good hunt, but that was out of the question until after they had located Sorine. She wanted to hurry up and get Isran off her back. Despite the misgivings the Dawnguard might harbor concerning her, they gave Kirsen something to do and she had missed having a purpose.

That day dragged by like sap down the bark of a tree, agonizingly slow and boring. Conversation was sparse despite all of Kharjo's efforts; she was just too tired to keep up with any sort of topic. Eventually dusk fell and it was time for the to set up a makeshift camp. Despite the feeling that they had barely made any progress that day, the telltale stone walls of Whiterun stood in the distance. Kirsen guessed there was a good three days of travel ahead of them still. Maybe more, considering the fact that they would be sticking to the roads. Traversing the wilds was far easier on your own and in the form of a beast.

It was early when they set out again, the sky still peppered with fading stars. As they moved through the heart of Skyrim the weather grew warmer. The mornings weren't quite so chilly and there wasn't a hint of frost in sight. The Bosmer could appreciate the temperature during this time of the year. The edges of the Skyrim were beginning to wither, as autumn prepared the land for hibernation. A sudden thought popped into her head and Kirsen reached out to tap Kharjo on the shoulder repeatedly.

"Hey, do you think Werebears hibernate?" 

"It is far too earlier for these kind of questions." He grumbled.

"I'm being serious. Do they just curl up in a cave regardless of their form? What if they shift and immediately fall asleep in bear form?" 

His pace quickened at that point, long legs easily outpacing Kirsen's steps. Eventually the river they had been following diverged into a few measly streams. Mud squelched beneath her steel boots. It would be a pain to clean out of the buckles later, unfortunately. From this point the two of them skirted around the city of Whiterun and continued heading west. They wouldn't need to stop for supplies, since Kirsen was a seasoned hunter even with the clunky, Dawnguard issued crossbow. She had to sneak closer to her prey before a guaranteed shot could be made, but damn if it wasn't powerful. There wouldn't be the need for a second shot as long as she hit her mark. 

Dark gray clouds scuttled along the horizon, not quite close enough to be of any hindrance yet. It was beginning to look as though they wouldn't make it to Rorikstead before the storm reached them. Kirsen wasn't fond of wearing the light helmet that went with her Dawnguard armor, but it would grant her a little bit of shelter. She paused to fish it out of her travel bag with a sigh. Ahead of her Kharjo glanced back and then at the advancing clouds. It was his turn to search for a helmet.

True to her assumption, the town of Rorikstead had just appeared along the horizon when lightning flashed across the sky. It ended in a resounding crack that made both of them jump. A droplet landed on Kirsen's cheek, then another and another. Within a matter of minutes the downpour of rain obscured the vast majority of their vision. Glancing over at Kharjo, she had to fight back a peal of laughter. He looked like a drowned skeever with his fur plastered against his body.

They were thoroughly drenched as the two travellers stormed into the Frostfruit Inn. A couple of patrons glanced at them before sniffing and returning to their drinks. It was surprisingly busy for a tavern situated in such a small town, but perhaps that had something to do with the weather. There weren't a whole lot of places to take shelter out on the plains between Rorikstead and Whiterun. A younger looking Nord started making his way over to them, while calling out a rushed greeting. He accidentally smacked a drunken Redguard with the broom he was carrying, and the man tumbled to the side without much care. The drunkard seemed seconds away from passing out anyway, so the quick apology fell on deaf ears.

"Good Evening! You can speak to my father, Mralki, you need a room." The Nord lingered a few extra moments, eyeing them with excitement, "You wouldn't happen to be adventurers, would you?"

"You could say that." Kirsen answered at the same time Kharjo said "This one is just a Caravan Guard."

"If you're willing to do me a favor, could you speak to my father?" 

"What about?"

"I want to be an adventurer, but he thinks it's too dangerous." 

"What makes you think I can change his mind? It is dangerous out there."

"I'm willing to try anything. The other day he said if I could unlock his old chest then I could have the armor in it, but I'm not any good at it." He pleaded.

Kirsen tipped her head to the side, "Hmm, that's something we can arrange."

"If you are suggesting I-" Kharjo started to growl.

"No, no not you Kharjo. My uncle gave me some great lessons in lockpicking the last time I visited."

The Khajiit just snorted in response, rolling his eyes. In front of them, the man began to look hopeful again. Kirsen was smart, but unfortunately she lacked a certain tact with her words and it was doubtful that she would be able to convince the mans father. The man, whose named turned out to be Erik, told her where to find the chest in a hushed voice. Then he and Kharjo left to arrange two rooms for the night with Mralki. With Erik's father successfully distracted, Kirsen skirted around the edge of the inn until she came upon the large bedroom that Erik had pointed out as his father's. 

The door was already slightly ajar and the wood elf only had to push it a little further to slip inside. It was dim within, having only the light spilling from the foyer to light har way. Normally this would have made things more difficult, but having the blood of a beast enhanced her vision even when she was just a Mer. She carefully made her way to the far corner of the room. Just as Erik had said, there was a large chest followed by a wardrobe and tucked behind that was a smaller chest. The lock was bigger than the ones Kirsen had practiced on, thankfully. If she was being honest with herself, lockpicking still wasn't her strong suit and there was a niggling worry that she would fail.

'Take a deep breath, let it out slowly. Steady your hands', Sildriel's words echoed through her head. The metal lockpick had felt so flimsy the first time she tried to use it. She tried to push the memory of her many failed attempts away, there wasn't time to waste. Kirsen fiddled with the lock carefully and was surprised to feel it click open relatively easily. With Erik's tone of voice she had expected something far more difficult. It was a simple chest owned by farmers, anyway, so she wasn't sure why she'd worried over it.

She was careful to close the lock just the tiniest amount, enough that Erik could still pull it open without the thing looking suspicious until then. Sneaking back out of the room was about the same as in, squeezing through the opening and pulling it until it was open just a bit. Mralki had his back to her while he showed Kharjo one of the rented rooms. Luckily for her, Erik had stationed himself nearby while he continued to sweep the floor. When his father turned back towards them, he was already showing Kirsen to the other room they had paid for. The nord thanked her enthusiastically before he resumed working. 

That night Kirsen felt as though she almost got some rest. Dreams that were normally plagued with a constant source of anxiety and horror were oddly muted, a dull ache in their place. It was far more bearable to wake up feeling vaguely sore rather than with her heart beating like a rabbits. The Frostfruit inn was much quieter in the early morning and the two of them left before any of the other patrons even considered emerging from their rooms.

They had made good time up until this point, making it from the borderlands of the Rift all the way to the edge of the Reach in just three days. From here travelling would slow down considerable. Mountainous terrain and territorial natives would make it difficult to keep up the pace they had set before. Kharjo looked nervous, ears back and tail twitching in an aggravated manner. She couldn't blame him for it, Markarth had always been Kirsen's least favorite city to travel to. Partly because of the constant tensions with the Forsworn, but also because she just plain didn't like the hold at all. The sooner they got this over with, the happier the two of them would be.

Unfortunately, she had little information to go on when it came down to tracking Sorine. The people of Karthwasten hadn't seen hair nor hide of the Breton and with a heavy sigh Kirsen realized their best bet was just to go straight to Markarth. Juniper bushes dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. That was a plus at least, the Bosmer wouldn't need to buy juniper berries again for ages. With a flash of inspiration, Kirsen darted to a nearby stream and carefully dampened some cloth. After that she padded passed a mildly confused Kharjo and began to unearth a small juniper sapling (was it still a sapling if it was a bush? She wasn't sure). Once it was wrapped up and hidden away in her alchemy satchel, they continued down the road.

"Help!" A voice cut through the air suddenly, followed by several screams.

Kirsen and Kharjo exchanged a glance before dashing after the sound. The Khajiit pulled ahead of her, swiftly drawing the steel axe from his side. Rounding a bend hard on his heels, they discovered the source of the commotion. There was a tall Khajiit donned in monk's robes baring his teeth at a cave bear. The massive creature bellowed in rage, but seemed more concerned with intimidation than attacking just yet. Before they could decide how to help two more shapes darted behind the Khajiit. Kirsen was horrified to realize that it was a pair of children, eyes wide with fear. 

"Get the kids!" Kharjo growled at her quickly. 

She nodded and waited a heartbeat to let her friend rush forward in an attempt to distract the bear. The other Khajiit shoved the children in their direction as effectively as he could without looking away from the animal. It's impressive roaring didn't falter until Kharjo yelled back. With the beast successfully occupied, Kirsen caught one of the boys around the waist as he stumbled by her. 

"Come on, arms around my neck, hurry!" 

The boy obeyed with a scared nod, and once he had a firm hold on her Kirsen picked up the other boy. Her eyes darted around wildly, trying to find somewhere to escape to. There weren't a lot of options and she cursed before rushing over a sloped cliff. It was incredibly difficult to scale the stones with only one unhindered arm. Somehow, she managed it and slung the boy in her arm up to a flat spot a good fifteen feet off the ground. The other boy, who she assumed was his brother, wasted no time in climbing off her back. They crouched there together with tears streaking down their cheeks. 

"Don't move." Kirsen ordered without pausing to see if they had listened or not.

Scrambling back down the face of rock, the Bosmer glanced at the fight anxiously. To an astounding relief the pair of Khajiits seemed to have the upper hand. Kharjo might have been wearing a heavier set of armor, but he still managed to skirt just out of range of the heavy paws swinging in his direction. Every time that Kharjo taunted the cave bear and got in its field of vision, the Khajiit in the robes would dart in to slice through its skin with deadly, precise dagger strikes. The creature was beginning to look overwhelmed, snarling and shaking its head back and forth. 

Kirsen was sorely missing her old, hunting bow as she watched from the sidelines. It was a more accurate shot than her crossbow. But the weapon would have to do and she dashed over to where she had dropped her bags to get the children. She loaded up a steel bolt as quickly as she could manage, glancing up at the battle every few seconds. Kharjo pushed his luck just a bit too far, lunging forward to strike as the bear reared up on its hind legs. There wasn't enough time for him to back away and he was smacked aside by a powerful paw. Kirsen narrowed her eyes furiously as she carefully aimed the crossbow. In the next few seconds, the animal recoiled slightly and then collapsed, sprouting a thick bolt from between it's eyes. 

She darted over to the fallen creature, careful to make sure it was definitely dead before checking on her friend. When Kirsen swiveled around anxiously, she spotted the other Khajiit helping Kharjo into a sitting position. From what she could see, her friend wasn't seriously injured. The stranger exchanged a few words with Kharjo before standing up and leaving. She was surprised to see that he wasn't sticking around. 

"This one is okay, I trust?" Kharjo asked her as she approached.

"I'm fine. What about you? Do you need a potion?" 

"The filthy animal didn't even pierce my armor. Khajiit will have some unpleasant bruises, however."

Kirsen sighed in relief, "Thank the Divines. I was certain you would be bleeding out of the stones."

"Ah, we are made of sturdier things than you elves, yes?"

"Sure." She snorted humorously, "anyways, who was that?"

"I'm not sure. A wanderer, perhaps? He was quite mysterious." Kharjo glanced back down the road with a smile.

"Oh, and I'm the one who acts like a lovesick puppy."

Kharjo grimaced at her teasing and swatted her away, "Bah! Go check on those kids, why don't you, and leave Khajiit alone."

Kirsen stuck her tongue out at him and quickly moved away before he could aim a tougher hit at her. The two boys were huddled together on the stone still, looking akin to a pair of owlets with how round their eyes were. She shimmied back up to the ledge and wedged herself into a crevice just beside it. When she was firmly planted, then she began to point out where the boys should put their hands and feet to climb down. The braver of the two shuffled over to her first, allowing her to carefully lower him as far as she could before he could climb himself. Kirsen waited until he was a foot or so away from the ground before doing the same with his brother. Then she followed them down and the three met back up beside Kharjo. 

The Khajiit was still trying to catch his breath, wincing every so often. Kirsen narrowed her eyes and tried to figure out if that was just because of the bruising or if he had possibly cracked a rib. There would be healers in Markarth that would be more effective for that kind of injury however, so the Bosmer held her tongue. Kharjo put on a brave face for the children and pretended to look impressed at them.

"You escaped with no injuries? Swift feet." He said.

One of the boys nodded proudly, "We've outrun every creature in the Reach."

At this, Kirsen exchanged a surprised look with her friend. All of Skyrim was dangerous, but the Reach was notoriously deadly for the average traveler. 

"Where are your parents?"

The boy just shrugged at them, eyes firmly planted on the ground. 

"We get along just fine. Thank you for protecting us." He said.

Without another word, the two boys took off in the opposite direction. Kirsen jumped up from her crouching position beside Kharjo. They were already around the bend and out of sight by this point. She wavered for a few seconds longer, unwilling to leave Kharjo on his own, but still incredibly worried for the two boys. The Khajiit looked at her with resignation at the situation. It was useless to go after them with the headstart her hesitation had give them. Their best bet would be to finish the trek up to Markarth and send some guards after them. She helped Kharjo to his feet, offering to let him lean on her as they moved. The Khajiit only laughed and gave her a playful shove. 

"A little scrap like you won't do me any good." 

"I've got more muscle than you do." Kirsen bristled.

He patted her head consolingly, "Sure you do, pipsqueak."

"Call me "pipsqueak" again and I'll eat your knees." 

With that final sentiment, Kirsen shoved him aside and tried not to laugh as he stumbled. Kharjo flipped her off in return, despite the good-natured smile on his face. Eventually he did allow the Bosmer to shoulder some of his weight as they continued down the road. He was no longer limping quite so heavily, but every once in awhile Kirsen would hear him suck in a painful breath. The sooner they reached Markarth, the better.


	7. All Around Fhe World Was Waking

When Kirsen and Kharjo finally reached the stables outside the city of Markarth, she sent her friend on ahead. She gave him what was left in her coin purse to get himself fixed up. The Khajiit was grateful enough to insist that he would use his own gold to buy her a new bow. Her crossbow had been shiny and new, but most of the novelty was wearing thin by now. Kirsen missed the excellent precision that could only be achieved from stalking your prey at long range. If she wanted to get a good strike in up close, she might as shift into her beast form to do so. 

The Bosmer lingered around the entrance of the stables and tried to keep a reasonable distance between the horses and herself. The large, sturdy creatures were fascinating to watch, but the sentiment wasn't shared. Most animals could sense just what she was and they didn't like Kirsen being near them. Horses were easily spooked by her presence. It wasn't long before a stable boy appeared from behind the building, toting a couple buckets of water. He startled when he realized she was there, obviously lost in his own little world. Water sloshed over the sides of the buckets as they were set down. While the stable boy was more concerned with seeing what she needed, a large wolfhound trotted over and began to drink from them.

"Aye! Hope you weren't waiting long."

"We just got here. You wouldn't happen to know about two Nord boys running around out there?"

"One of 'em have dark hair? And the other don't speak a word?"

"Sounds about right."

"Aw, that's just Sond and Bottar. Pair of orphans, the poor things."

Kirsen looked incredulous, "It's normal for them to be out there?"

"Guards tried sending 'em to that orphanage over in Riften, but they always end up back here. Stubborn kids." The stable boy shrugged, "They're smart enough to make it fine on their own."

She couldn't fathom caring that little for the safety of two children, regardless of whether they were orphans or not. After talking in circles with the stable boy for another two minutes, Kirsen eventually gave up and simply asked about Sorine. The stable boy pointed her in the direction of a Breton man named Banning. As she made her way over to the man, who was sitting on part of the huge stone steps leading to the city, the dog from earlier padded up beside her. Two smaller pups sat below Banning. When one of them tried to tumble over to Kirsen, the other dragged it back by the tail. The older dog was stepping tensely around her. 

"Got a cat in your pack?" Banning laughed at her, "Something about you is making my dogs anxious."

"I must smell like the bear we fought on the road." Kirsen bluffed.

"That'd do it. Here to buy one of my families famous war-dogs?"

"Not today. The stable boy back there said you could point me in the direction of Sorine Jurard."

The man frowned for a moment, "Uh, I'm not familiar with that name. Would she happen to be an eccentric Breton looking for dwarven ruins?"

She nodded quickly and pulled out her map. Banning pointed out a few of the areas he had talked to the woman about. After they were marked down, he sat back gave Kirsen another serious look.

"Are you sure you don't need a companion for the road? These dogs are the most loyal beasts on this side of Skyrim."

"Well, dogs don't always, um, like me." 

"Nonsense! This little bugger's already taken a liking to you."

Before Kirsen knew it, she was making her way back down from the Understone Keep with a wiggling bundle of fur in her arms. Kharjo was standing at the base of the steps with a couple bundles in hand. While he was still favoring his right side, it was obvious that he was healed enough to keep moving. His face dropped as soon as the Khajiit glanced up at her. Kirsen smiled sheepishly as the puppy yapped in excitement. The last four steps felt like they kept stretching longer and longer.

"What is that?"

She answered with a grin, "A baby dog."

"That thing doesn't look like it will help us find your woman."

"Well, not exactly, but...I like him."

Kharjo sniffed at the little puppy disdainfully. He did a double take suddenly and then leaned in to get a better look at its face. The dog tried to lick him, and the look of displeasure only intensified.

"Kirsen, why did you buy a blind dog?"

"Technically I didn't buy him."

"Kirsen, why did you steal a blind dog."

"I didn't steal him! The man gave him to me for running an errand. He was...discounted." 

"Because it's blind! We can't take it with us."

"Why not? The Dawnguard trains huskies to help them hunt vampires and other daedric beings." She pointed out, "and this puppy already likes me. The huskies don't, so I can't have one."

"Oh, so it's blind and dumb."

"Hey! He can hear you."

"The Dawnguard dogs are trained to dislike you because you're a lycanthrope. If this one isn't scared of you, it won't be scared of other things like you."

Kirsen put her foot down finally, "The dog is mine, and it's coming with us."

Kharjo didn't look happy, but he seemed to understand the futility of pushing the subject any further. He shoved the item in his hands towards her and then stomped away. With her new, furry friend held tightly on one side, and the gift in the other, Kirsen struggled to follow him. The puppy ended up fitting perfectly in her travel bag. He poked his head out and licked at her fingers adorably. Once the little creature wasn't taking up her hands, the Bosmer paused to admire the bow that Kharjo had bought for her. It must have taken quite a bit to heal his wounds, because it was of exceptional make.

She stepped up her pace until she was padding just beside Kharjo. Handing the freshly-marked up map only lifted his spirits a tiny bit. The Khajiit examined it closely, trying to decide on the best route for them to embark on. Kirsen could have lent him a hand (she was a tracker by nature, of course), but it was much more enjoyable to admire her new weapon. It was of Dwemer make; a deep golden hue with odd patching that revealed it had indeed been fetched from ruins deep underground. The intricate patterns were chipped in some places, but the bowstring was new and strung expertly. Faint runes shimmered along the surface every once in awhile, almost too light to discern even with vision like hers. Even though she hadn't the slightest clue what the enchantment was, Kirsen loved the bow already. 

Beside her, Kharjo had stopped to grin proudly. It was obvious that he knew just how much the Bosmer appreciated the gift. Even if it was more of a payment than a gift. The sentiment was still there. After allowing her to look it over for a few moments longer, Kharjo held up the map in her direction. As he did the puppy tried to bite the edge of the paper. Actually, Kirsen realized that she needed to hurry up and name him, because just thinking of him as "the puppy" felt mean. Her friend shifted to keep it out of reach of the puppy, obviously fighting off a hiss.

"You need to teach it-"

"His name is Sweetroll."

"..." Kharjo let out a sigh heavy enough to shake mountains, "You need to teach Sweetroll some manners."

Kirsen elected to ignore the advice. She did, however, pay attention to Kharjo's ideas on where they should head to first. Once they could find a sign of Sorine being in the area, the Bosmer would have little to no trouble following the trail from there. They would have to skirt around the edges of a forsworn camp by the name of Drudach Redoubt. It was the closest named landmark in the area that had some ruins nearby. Nothing large enough to be plainly labeled, unfortunately, so they would have to sniff out the exact whereabouts themselves.

It was simple enough to follow the road until they needed to branch off into the wilds. Kirsen let Sweetroll out of her pack and the excited puppy danced around them. Even with his lack of eyesight, it was obvious that he was incredibly well-trained. She only had to call him back to their side a handful of times. Banning had proudly boasted of the dogs lineage, a breed of Beardog that had once made themselves comfortable in every home spanning the Reach. Their numbers had dropped dramatically with the struggle between the Reachmen and Stormcloaks. Sweetroll couldn't have been any older than six or seven months, and if his massive head and paws were any indicator, then it was easy to imagine him keeping up with his namesake. He would make a wonderful companion.

As they grew nearer to their destination Kirsen scooped up the puppy and secured him in her pack once more. He had the good sense not to start barking, thankfully. They paused beneath a rocky outcropping at the sight of a forsworn patrol along the horizon. From there it was half an hour of travel west, until they could see the shape of Darkfall Cave in the distance. Rocky, mountainous landscape didn't make for easy searching. Kirsen passed her travel pack over to a less-than-willing Kharjo. She studied the rise and fall of the cliffside carefully, stopping as unnatural dimples in the soil appeared along the trail. 

They were roughly the shape of the average traveler's boot. Water pooled in a couple of the tracks, murky and obviously not fresh. She was willing to bet that they had been made before the rainstorm from earlier in the week. Waving for Kharjo to follow, the Bosmer worked to follow the footprints and other signs that meant someone had passed through there before. Disturbed stones, branches broken from juniper bushes, and then suddenly lots of scuffed dirt. Kirsen straightened up with a tilt of her head. 

Several yards ahead of her was the remains of a Dwarven alter, or something remarkably similar to one. A woman was pacing around it and waving her arms haphazardly. Judging by the angry stream of ranting that accompanied the movements, there was something upsetting her tremendously. She didn't seem to realize that Kirsen and Kharjo were there at all. The Bosmer slipped closer with exaggerated caution, not wanting to startle the stranger too much. On the bright side, if this wasn't who they were looking for then it would be a hell of a coincidence.

"Sorine? Sorine Jurard?" Kirsen asked.

The woman whipped around, "You haven't seen a sackful of dwarven gyros, have you?"

Caught off-guard by the sudden interest Sorine was showing her, Kirsen shook her head rapidly. In an instant the other woman was back to pacing with an exclamation of frustration.

"I saw a mudcrab the other day! Wouldn't be surprised if it followed me here!"

Kirsen interrupted, "Uh, they don't do that. You know, take people's things. They're crabs."

"Just look around, will you?"

She exchanged a glance with Kharjo, who just nodded pointedly at the lack of free hands he had to work with. Kirsen sighed and trudged down the slope. If Sorine had misplaced the sack, there was a better chance of it rolling down the cliffside than catching the interest of any local wildlife. There weren't any obvious signs for her to follow. Water babbled somewhere out of sight, she guessed from the bottom of the slope. The easiest place to start would be there, so Kirsen followed the sound. She really hoped the bag hadn't tumbled into the river. Spying a lumpy, brown shape nestled a few feet from the frothy water, Kirsen thanked the stars for sending a little bit of luck their way.

As she approached the shape, a mudcrab emerged from the mud and snapped its claws at her. She nudged it away with the toe of her boot before nabbing the bag. It was surprisingly heavy, packed full of various Dwemer artifacts. The mudcrab crawled back over and began pinching at her leg. Luckily the leather of her armor was relatively thick, so she just pushed the creature away again. 

"Stay there, buddy. I don't think Sorine will appreciate you following me." 

Sometimes being a Bosmer had its perks, as the mudcrab promptly dug back into the bank to harass another unsuspecting traveler. Kirsen returned to her companion and glanced around with raised eyebrows. He pointed over to the altar. There she spotted Sorine crouched on the ground sifting through some rubble. She wasn't sure exactly why the woman was doing it, but Kirsen moved over to her anyways. Placing the bag down carefully, the Bosmer cleared her throat in an attempt not to startle her.

"Hey, I found your pack. Will you go to Fort Dawnguard now?" She asked.

Sorine pawed through the bag, "Hmm...it seems like they're all here. What did you need now?"

"Isran needs you."

"No, he made it quite clear the last time that we spoke that he didn't."

"Things have changed," Kirsen paused, before deciding to get right to the point, "Vampires have been causing a lot of trouble."

"I told him! I had no less than three scenarios where-" Sorine was cut off quickly.

"They have an Elder Scroll. Will you meet us at Fort Dawnguard?"

"Well, that's a possibility that hadn't occurred to me before. I guess that I can since I have my satchel back."

Both Kirsen and Kharjo were exceedingly relieved to send the eccentric woman on her way without any more trouble. Even if she came off as a little scatterbrained, Kirsen had a feeling she could handle the travel on her own. Not a lot of people were brave enough, or tough enough, to spend many days out in the Reach's wilderness. She would have considered traveling together for that reason alone. Unfortunately, there was a tension building in her chest and Kirsen had a feeling it would be better to let Sorine go her own way. 

The beast blood in her veins was growing restless after so much travel. She needed to shift and tire out all of this energy, maybe even to hunt something. Normally Kirsen would attempt to put it off for longer, since she wasn't keen on shifting while in the company of others, no matter how complacent they were with her secret. But having Kharjo here to keep ahold of Sweetroll while she got him used to her beast form would be helpful.

Her friend agreed to the proposition, only curling his lip slightly as he held the excited puppy in his arms. They spent the entire trip back to the Rift like that; Kirsen shifting whenever she had the energy to and Kharjo calming Sweetroll down. By the time that they had to part ways, the puppy only scampered a few feet off before returning to lick at her face. She was tempted to stop in Riften and visit her uncle, but the Dawnguard would be waiting for her. Kharjo offered to say hello for her while he awaited his caravan. 

It would take the rest of the day to reach Fort Dawnguard, so Kirsen waited until she was far from the main road and shifted again. Together Sweetroll and her ran through the piles of fallen, autumn leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pet i really wanted on elder scrolls online was discontinued so i put it in this fic instead lmao


	8. Can I be returned, You can

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait between updates, life gets hectic and my mental health wasn't doing great for awhile. things are on the up now, so hopefully this will be updated more frequently again!!

Dried blood covered the floor and walls, the splatters unnatural. It looked more like someone had purposely caused them for the intimidation factor. Although, by the nature of their disease, vampires had a tendency to bleed more than the average being. Serana considered this to be one of the many ironies surrounding her kind. But now wasn't the time to ponder the subject, being that she was currently standing in what appeared to be the torture alcove of the Dawnguard. There was no doubt that their leader left her here to put her off. 

 

Coming to Fort Dawnguard at all had been a huge risk on her part, and that fact was likely the reason why she was standing there and not strung up like the dusty bones beside her. The leader, who she assumed must be Isran, had stomped away nearly an hour ago. She had half a mind to go looking for him, but eventually thought better of it. If he had wanted her dead then she would be by now. Isran would have to come back for her eventually, if only to tell her where she could wait for Kirsen.

 

Voices sounded from somewhere off in the fort, but they were too far even for her keen ears to pick up on. Serana stifled a bored sigh. This was her only lead on her former companion, or at least the only one she remembered. She had hoped to find the Bosmer at the fort already. Apparently it had been too much to wish for, and she wasn't sure why that surprised her. The Dawnguard wouldn't have been happy that Kirsen let her go and that certainly caused her trouble. At this point footsteps interrupted her thoughts, leaving her tense until Isran rounding the corner with a familiar face.

 

"Alright, see what it wants." Isran spat, already glaring at her. 

 

Just behind him, Kirsen was staring at her with wide eyes. She wasn't sure if it was out of surprise or dismay. Within seconds the look dissolved into the Bosmer's characteristic big grin. It left Serana feeling instantly more relaxed, almost like there wasn't a very angry man looming between them. Kirsen glanced at him and eventually he retreated to the doorway. He wasn't going to leave them completely alone, but at least they had a semblance of privacy for their reunion. 

 

"Bet you weren't expecting to see me again." 

 

Kirsen shook her head, "I can't believe you're here. They could have killed you."

 

The concern was genuine, from what Serana could tell, and it left her feeling touched. She had imagined a dozen scenarios of what would happen when she escaped from her father and many of them had been unpleasant. 

 

"I needed to talk to you, it's important." 

 

"Did you find out why you were...?" The Bosmer lowered her voice.

 

"The reason I was locked away with the scroll...well, I'm sure you know already that my father isn't exactly a good person."

 

At this Kirsen grimaced slightly, clearly remembering how they had parted. Serana couldn't blame her there, Harkon rarely ever made a good first impression. 

 

"That would be putting it lightly, no offense."

 

"None taken." She paused to weigh her next words before continuing, "He wasn't always...the way he is now. There was an obscure prophecy and it just consumed him. Became his obsession."

 

"What sort of prophecy?" Kirsen asked, looking mildly skeptical.

 

"The pointless kind, far too vague to help with anything. But my father, he was fixated on this one part of it. That vampires wouldn't be harmed by the sun, to control it, I think."

 

"That seems too good to be true."

 

"Exactly. Something you wouldn't think twice about normally, but he was absorbed with it. It was sick, actually."

 

"I can imagine." 

 

If Isran hadn't been watching them like a hawk, Kirsen might have reached out to comfort her. As it was, the Bosmer leaned forward before shuffling her feet awkwardly. Serana wasn't sure if she really wanted to be consoled anyways. It had been a long time since the vampire had someone to confide in and it left her feeling rather hollow. The thought was nice and she appreciated Kirsen's readiness to comfort her, even if she wasn't exactly ready for the touchy-feely things it entailed.

 

"My mother and I tried to stop him, that's why I was sealed away with the scroll. We were happy without all of Tamriel trying to wipe us out." Serana finished.

 

"This is...a lot to take in."

 

Wrinkles creased Kirsen's brow, marring the normally bright features there. She wasn't wrong about it; if her father was onto something it could mean the fate of the world was in their hands. The silence that hung in the wake of her explanation felt thick. With Isran in the doorway glowering, the urgency was stark. Serana moved closer to her in an attempt to speed up whatever thinking she was doing. Rich, brown eyes glanced up at her, still heavy with unease.

 

"You took a huge risk coming here."

 

"I know, but out of everyone I've met since I woke back up, I just feel like I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong."

 

Kirsen shook her head earnestly, "No, you're right." An quick pause, "We just have to convince the others."

 

There was a lot left unsaid with that, things that could be easily read on Kirsen's face. Trying to get the Dawnguard to trust a vampire would be a mammoth of a task on a good day. But it was obvious that Isran harbored a lot of mistrust for the Bosmer as well. He probably knew that Kirsen was a lycanthrope and that would only hinder them in the long run. They were going to have to measure their words carefully to even get him to consider.

 

"Well, I'm nothing if not persuasive."

 

"I don't know if you should be the one to speak to Isran."

 

Serana might not have agreed with her there, vampires were known for their persuasive abilities, but she relented. Motioning for Kirsen to go ahead, the Nord crossed her arms. It wouldn't hurt to think of her own plans in the meantime. She could play off of Isran's obvious hatred, pretending to despise her own kind as well. But Serana wasn't sure if she could pull it off convincingly. Things would probably be safer if she was honest with him. 

 

"You've listened to what it has to say. Is there any reason why I shouldn't take care of it now?"

 

"We're going to need her help."

 

"Do you really believe that half-wit story about a prophecy? If that was the best it could think-" Isran began to spit.

 

Kirsen interrupted him hotly, "She risked her life to come here."

 

"I don't care if it has a death wish."

 

"Set your hatred aside, Isran! Look at the bigger picture here!"

 

The small woman waved her arms in exasperation and Serana felt a twinge of pride. Isran was easily a foot or two taller than her, filled with what seemed to be an undying anger. The average person would have shrunken away long before now, or perhaps wouldn't have stood up to him in the first place. Kirsen had only flinched the first time that he raised his voice at her. After that, the Bosmer seemed almost as livid as Isran. She wouldn't have been surprised to see Kirsen turn it into a brawl, after what had happened at Castle Volkihar. Serana thought that perhaps she should have pushed harder to be the one speaking.

 

"My hatred keeps me strong. I will set it aside when every last one of those things is dead."

 

"Fine! You don't have to trust her, just trust me. I believe what Serana said."

 

Isran curled his lip in disgust at this, but she could see the fire starting to die down at last. Despite the conviction in Kirsen's voice his eyes remained narrow. 

 

"Why should I trust you? You're the reason they got their hands on it and the scroll in the first place."

 

The Bosmer recoiled, "What was I supposed to do? Fight back while I was surrounded by a castle of vampires?"

 

Isran didn't have a ready answer for that. Silence swirled between them for long enough that Serana felt herself grow tense with apprehension. She was halfway through contemplating just how to go about fighting a way out of the castle with Kirsen at her side when the Dawnguard leader finally spoke again.

 

"You have one more chance." He held up a finger as Kirsen shifted away from him, "And if it lays a finger on anyone here, then it's on your head."

 

The way that Isran seethed the word "head" out, a projectile threat rather than a simple word; it wasn't a suggestion or even an order at that point. If Serana stepped out of line then Kirsen was going to be put down along with her. He stormed out of the room without bothering to wait for either of them to answer. Had the circumstances been a little different Serana would have described the motion as a tantrum.

 

"That went well." Serana muttered after a few minutes had passed and Kirsen hadn't turned away from the doorway.

 

It was odd to see the Bosmer so downcast, but she really couldn't blame Kirsen. Even if she wasn't as fiercely against vampires as the rest of the Dawnguard, they were still her...friends? Serana didn't know if that was the right word for it. They were Kirsen's co-workers at least and being threatened couldn't be sitting well with her. Even her sarcasm remained unanswered for another minute.

 

"We should get going." Kirsen mumbled.

 

The vampire nodded when their eyes met for a moment. It was impossible to tell what exactly what was going through the mind of the person who was once again her companion. They exited briskly and silence stretched between them, until Serana picked up her pace near the entrance to the Dawnguard's secluded hideout. She cut Kirsen off at the mouth of the cave, extending her arm to trap the Bosmer from moving any further.

 

"You have some nerve-"

 

Her accusation was cut short as Kirsen flinched viscerally and bared her teeth. It might have just been Serana's imagination, but it looked as though her canine teeth had grown longer in a matter of seconds. It was obvious that she had startled Kirsen far more than had been intentional. 

 

"I-sorry." She withdrew defensively. 

 

"Don't. Just please don't do that-" Kirsen visibly paused to calm herself down. "...corner me and raise your voice. I don't want to lash out at you on accident."

 

"It won't happen again."

 

The air bristled with an awkward tension, with neither party willing to talk about what had just happened. All of the fire that Serana had bottled up for this argument was extinguished in one sweeping gesture. She scolded herself mentally, it had been easy to spot the symptoms of someone who had suffered through a foul-tempered...parent? Authority figure? For Serana it had been her father, but they weren't close enough to discuss something like that yet with Kirsen. Even if the notion was tempting. They were going to be stuck with each other for awhile on this quest, and the sooner that Serana could stop seeing her companion as an interesting story, the better. 

 

"That was about what happened at Castle Volkihar, right?" Kirsen asked eventually.

 

"Yes. I specifically asked you to be subtle. It might not have taken me so long to get out of there otherwise."

 

Her tone was earnest, "I'm really sorry about that. Something just came over me, normally I have much better control."

 

Just like that, the baggage between the two of them was a little bit lighter. Part of Serana had been livid about Kirsen purposefully challenging her father like that. But when she looked down at the Bosmer the anger dissolved; she wasn't used to talking with someone who apologized so simply and sincerely. Kirsen had her back pressed against the wall of the cave still, her eyes glued to anything that wasn't the vampire. She had crossed a line without knowing it, just as Kirsen had at the castle. 

 

"I accept your apology...and thank you. For being so civil."

 

Kirsen glanced up, that goofy smile pulling at one corner of her mouth, "So, what's the plan now?"

 

Moving straight into the serious business, that was something Serana could do. She explained that while they did have the Elder Scroll in their possession, neither of them would be able to read it. They needed a Moth Priest to figure out what they were working with and how to stop her father from beating them to it. Her first thought would have been to visit the College of Winterhold, but Kirsen interrupted her suggestion by running back to the fort suddenly.

 

When she returned, a very excited puppy bouncing at her heels, the Bosmer insisted that she knew just who they should ask about finding a Moth Priest. Serana did not bother asking where Kirsen had gotten a dog. She lifted a hand to indicate that she would follow Kirsen's lead. The puppy seemed to be conflicted between its instincts to tail Serana nervously and to greet her enthusiastically because of Kirsen's obvious comfort in the vampire's presence. After a few minutes of rigorously sniffing at her boots, it was distracted by a hare sprinting down the path. As Kirsen struggled to keep her pet from running off Serana realized it was going to be a long walk- and not because of the distance.

 

It took a mere couple of hours to reach the city of Riften, and even the secure walls surrounding it looked grody. Moss and mold peppered the stones, it had most likely been years since anyone had even considered scrubbing them down. Serana was convinced she could smell the decay from where they stood outside of the gates. Their entry was barred by a pair of guards, whose boredom rolled off them in waves even with the helmets obscuring their expressions. The vampire pulled her hood lower in preparation for trouble.

 

"Halt! You need to, ahem, pay the visitors tax." The closest guard barked.

 

Kirsen shook her head indignantly, "The what? I visit here often and there's never been any tax to enter."

 

"It's a new policy. Pay up, or get lost, elf."

 

It was entirely the wrong thing to say. There were a tense few seconds where Serana swore that time slowed down. Beside her Kirsen tensed, bristling with indescribable anger over the guards tone. Being called an elf was one thing if it was used to describe her race, but when it was uttered with ignorant disdain? That was a completely different story, and one that was sure to end up with them on the wrong side of a prison cell. She reached forward and placed a hand on Kirsen's shoulder cautiously. A subtle way of saying "I've got this one". There seemed to be a considerable effort on Kirsen's part not to antagonize the subject any further. Her fists clenched and unclenched rapidly, but eventually she stepped back. 

 

"This is obviously a shakedown." Serana implored them, knitting her eyebrows with exaggerated concern.

 

One of the perks that came with being a vampire was the persuasiveness, and if the person on the receiving end was particularly weak-minded it bordered on straight mind control. The guard that had spoken seemed to stumble over his own feet as he stepped aside.

 

"I-fine. Just keep your voice down and get inside." 

 

Serana offered up a thankful smile, forcing down the pity that she really felt for the man. It would be unpleasant for him to think back on this encounter in a few days, and realize that something unnatural had occurred. But the two of them would be long gone by the time that happened. Still, from time to time Serana was plagued by her former humanity and could only feel guilty about her abilities. 

 

As they quickly entered Riften, Kirsen looked at her with something between admiration and...well, the vampire didn't quite know. Perhaps it was envy, or even a tinge of fear. It was hard to tell from the corner of her eye and when Serana glanced at her companion the expression was gone in an instant. It would be easier, and far less anxiety-inducing, to focus on the town than on what Kirsen thought of her. 

 

Riften would never make it onto a list of the most beautiful cities to visit, that was for sure, but it had its own sort of charm. Serana could imagine how it had been in its glory days, with people bustling about and boats docked within the canals. Unfortunately, the city was far from its peak and on this dreary morning the streets were barren. Mud-caked stones retaining several pairs of boot prints were the only signs that anyone had even stepped outside before them. Despite the gloomy atmosphere Kirsen was glowing excitedly. The prospect of visiting this mystery person obviously had her companions complete trust and that thought helped to put Serana at ease.

 

The Bosmer skirted around the edge of the city, leading them along a decaying boardwalk. Serana found that once she could ignore the smell of dead fish and damp wood, Riften was interestingly designed. The horseshoe-shaped canal running through the middle of the city was quite unique. Even the overhanging balconies that shielded them from the oncoming drizzle were refreshing. Where Solitude was open and imposing, Riften was compact and homely. Perhaps when this was all over she would visit again, in the summer months when rain was scarce.

 

Kirsen led her to a rickety staircase, pausing just long enough to throw a quick glance over her shoulder. For a few seconds she thought the look was to make sure Serana was following her still. As her companion descended and made a beeline for a barred doorway on the lower decks, she realized it was more likely that Kirsen was making sure that no patrolling guards saw them. Suddenly, whoever Kirsen was dragging them to go see didn't give her such a feeling of reassurance.

 

As Kirsen fiddled with the doorway, Serana glanced nervously back up the staircase. Her senses grew increasingly heightened with every inch that the sun crept lower in the sky. With just a little bit of focus the vampire could trace the path of one of the Riften guards making his rounds, getting closer and closer by the second. From the direction he was walking there would be a perfect view of the two of them sneaking about down here. Sure, they weren't specifically committing any crimes that Serana was aware of, but she didn't like the idea of drawing attention to themselves right now. Not with her father's goons out looking for his precious, missing daughter.

 

The locks clicked with a rusted sound, audible only to someone with ears keen as a fox. Serana looked back over to her companion. With an exaggerated flourish, Kirsen held the barred door open and waved for Serana to enter first.

 

"M'lady."

 

She curled her lip in mock disgust, "You know what? Just for that I refuse to step foot in whatever dungeon this is first."

 

"Suit yourself." Kirsen responded with stifled laughter.

 

The Bosmer was quick to slide ahead on quiet feet, which left Serana stepping cautiously as well. To her utter disbelief the walls leading down into the "Ratway" (a name that Kirsen whispered over her shoulder) were even more decrepit than the rest of Riften. A solid layer of grime coated everything like a spongy, disgusting blanket. Serana had the feeling that if she reached out to touch the mold it would end up killing her. 

 

Even the ground was slick beneath her boots, threatening to send her careening into Kirsen's back if she wasn't careful. Ahead of Serana her companion's steps faltered. For a split second the vampire wondered if perhaps she could tell that Serana was thinking about her. When Kirsen turned back to grin at her, a feeling of dread bubbled within her.

 

"So, hey...now that we're going to be traveling together longer, personal things are fair game. Right."

 

"Please don't tell me you brought us down into this filthy tunnel just to torture me for my family secrets." She groaned.

 

Kirsen's grin grew even more irritating, "Nah, you're going to learn about me!"

 

"Oh, so you're going to torture me with your family secrets?"

 

The Bosmer appeared to be eating her first in an attempt to stifle the laughter her response brought on. Seeing the brightness of it put Serana far more at ease than any verbal reassurance. They might be tiptoeing around a dank sewer, but at least there wasn't any immediate danger. Something important to Kirsen was tied to the Ratway and even that small fact made the passageway a little bit friendlier. 

 

Minutes crept by as the travelled the winding hallways. They passed through some of the most revolting rooms Serana had ever set foot in, which was quite a feat considering Volkihar castle had bloodied human cattle just lying around to be fed upon. Skeevers nested in many corners and she had lost count of how many the two of them had dispatches already. 

 

At one point Kirsen motioned for the vampire to crouch along the wall beside her. They inched around the far side of an open room as quiet as mice, while someone muttered maniacally behind a door. Serana didn't ask about it and her companion offered up no explanation. After they were in the clear again, however, Kirsen did lament that it wasn't usually this difficult to reach their destination. Apparently someone had left the regular drawbridge lifted and the two of them were forced to traverse the long way around.

 

"Just one more room to go." The Bosmer whispered suddenly, freezing in her tracks.

 

The average person wouldn't have heard the soft scuffling coming from the next room, but Kirsen and Serana could. She was prepared to follow her companions lead, blinking in apprehension as she realized Kirsen was staring at her curiously. The Bosmer pointed to her own canine teeth and then over at the doorway with a questioning look on her face. It was easy enough to understand; Kirsen was giving her permission to feed before they met whoever it was that they were looking for. A small glow of appreciation struck her at the thoughtful gesture.

 

Serana prowled to the doorway with measured steps, her posture falling into the gait of a predator with practiced ease. Her target was hunched over a table shuffling around various notes and septims. There wasn't a whole lot to the woman, likely a skooma addict or some other hoodlum holed up in the Ratway. She wouldn't be missed. Unfortunately that meant the blood wouldn't taste all that great either, but now wasn't the time to be picky. The more human she appeared the better and a fresh feed was the best way to guarantee that. She slid behind the woman silently, a sinister shadow that would never be seen coming.

 

There was something about that fact that made Serana feel a tiny bit better about sinking her teeth into the woman's neck. That the death would be quick and virtually painless. A pin prick and then within a few breaths there would already be enough blood loss to induce dizziness and blurred thoughts. She reached out to hold her prey as the body became limp, within another few minutes there wasn't a trace of movement left. The woman was dead and her killer was satiated once more.

"Do you need a minute?" 

Serana glanced over to find Kirsen observing the scene with morbid curiosity. The first time she had fed around the Bosmer her eyes had been anywhere except on what was happening, but that discomfort had dissipated. She shook her head and wiped a smudge of blood from the corner of her mouth as casually as one could manage.

"I'm ready when you are."

All that was left between them and their destination was a wooden door, surprisingly new compared to the rest of the Ratway tunnels. Perhaps moldy wood wasn't the most welcoming sight for...wherever it was they were going. Kirsen padded up to it easily, while the vampire followed more slowly. She wouldn't admit to there being any nerves involved, simply caution in an unknown environment. That was all.


End file.
